


The Dark Prince

by dairesfanficrefuge_archivist



Category: General Hospital, Highlander - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-31
Updated: 2001-12-31
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:39:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist/pseuds/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	The Dark Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

The Dark Prince by Charlotte D. p. 1/2

_The Dark Prince_

By Charlotte D. 

A _Highlander/General Hospital_ crossover fanfic 

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Russia, 1917 

Duncan MacLeod raced through the harried streets, deeply worried over the mounting tension between the people. He had been in Russia only a brief time, but he could still sense the growing restlessness. It was a country on the verge of a revolution. 

Slipping through the gates of the huge, spectacular mansion, he raced up the doorsteps and was allowed immediate entrance. He was meet in the foyer by a clearly worried Alexi Cassadine. 

"What is your verdict?" Alexi asked of the men he had come to trust in a few short weeks. A little over three months ago, he had been returning to his home only to see a scuffle break out in the streets. A mysterious, dark-haired stranger had stepped in to stop the fighting, and had nearly died for his efforts. 

Alexi still shuddered at the memory of how one rioter had produced an enormous knife and had tried to take it to the man's throat. Such a blow as that not only would have killed the man, but probably severed his head cleanly from his shoulders. 

He had intervened, though, and had saved the life of the man he now knew as Duncan MacLeod. Mac had been deeply grateful to him, and had made an odd statement about "keeping his head". Alexi had invited the stranger to stay with him, and had not regretted his decision since. 

The Cassadine family was of royal blood, and it had been frowned upon by his peers that he openly entertained a "commoner". A foreign one at that. But he had learned much from MacLeod. 

"You must leave the country. Now, Alexi," Duncan interrupted his thoughts, worry evident in his dark eyes. 

"Leave?" a soft voice echoed from the shadows, and both men turned to see Gretchen Cassadine step forward. "We cannot leave, Duncan. This is our home. Our country. . ." 

"A country on the verge of war," the Highlander reminded. "You must trust me, Alexi. You will be stripped of your wealth, your titles. . .possibly even your lives if you stay in Russia now." 

Alexi nodded then, accepting his fate. "I have feared as much. I will gather the other family members. We will flee the country tonight." 

"Where will you go?" Duncan asked. 

"I do not know, my friend. Europe. Spain. Greece, perhaps. Would you consider making the journey with us?" 

MacLeod shook his dark head, daring a glance at Gretchen before answering, "I cannot. But I will see you safely from the country." 

Alexi nodded. "I must go and prepare the others." 

Duncan waited until he had disappeared around the corner before turning to Alexi's wife, Gretchen Cassadine. The tightness filled his chest as it always did at the sight of the beautiful woman. He knew he felt things for her that he should not, but logic never could over-ride the heart. 

She moved toward him then, hesitantly extending her hand to him. He took it and squeezed it tightly. 

"Will you consider changing your mind?" her dark eyes pleaded with him. 

"You know I cannot. And you know why," he whispered hoarsely, emotion making his voice crack as he raised a hand to lightly caress her cheek. "Alexi is my friend. I owe him my life. I cannot betray that." 

"I know," she sighed against his touch. "He is a good man. . .And the father of my child." 

That revelation stunned him for a moment. He forced his eyes to wander down her, and noticed for the first time the slight roundness in her belly. It made sense to him now. Alexi's agreement to leave the country. Her decision to travel with him wherever he chose to go. She carried the Cassadine heir. It sealed the fates of all three of them. 

"I will think of you often," he whispered, kissing the back of her hand. 

"And I you," she vowed, slipping an emerald ring from her finger and pressing it against his palm. "So you do not forget me." 

"I will never forget you," he assured. "Or your family. The MacLeod's owe you a debt now. If your family ever needs anything, even a hundred years from now, they can come to the MacLeod's. It is a blood oath I make to you tonight, Gretchen. If a Cassadine ever needs help, a MacLeod will honor this vow." 

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Port Charles, NY   
Present Day 

Nikolas Cassadine stepped onto the porch of his cottage and quietly sipped a cup of coffee. It was a foggy New York morning, a hint of chill in the air. The mist swirled around him, dampening his black hair. He had considered taking his horse Sheba for a ride this morning, but the fog was too thick. Besides, his mind was too troubled to enjoy a horseback ride. And he had only a few more minutes before he needed to leave for work. 

A smile touched his handsome face at the thought. How would his ancestors feel if they knew their heir, the Cassadine Prince, worked like a commoner? Or that he lived in a quiet little town on the East Coast, and shied away from anything concerning his family, save his aunt Alexis. 

The Cassadines--once proud members of Russian royalty--had left a bitter trail these past few decades. Even he had made his own foolish errors. But mostly, he had been on the receiving end of the Cassadine's battle. The never-ending war within his own family had cost him so much. He had grown up not knowing his own mother and siblings. He thanked God every day that he had rectified that. It would be difficult to even imagine a life now without his mother, Laura Spencer, or his half-siblings Lucky and Lulu Spencer not being in it. Although he could easily do without his former step-father, Luke Spencer. The man who had murdered his grandfather, Mikkos Cassadine, and his own father, Stavros. However, he couldn't lay the entire blame on Luke. Mikkos and Stavros had contributed greatly to their own demises. 

And then there was his grandmother and his uncle. A sad sigh escaped him at the thought of them. He would never feel anything but hatred for Helena, and that was her own fault. She loved only what she could control. And what she couldn't control, she tried to destroy. A part of him knew he was only still living because he was the Prince. The heir. The only child of her beloved son Stavros. 

His Uncle Stefan was a different matter, though. Stefan had been both mother and father to him for most of his life. He had loved his uncle like a son loved his father. Hell, he had once _thought_ he was the biological son of Stefan. But the war within the Cassadine family had served to permanently damage their relationship. Stefan had betrayed him in the worst possible way: he had allowed Nikolas to think him dead. 

For months, he had grieved for the man he thought of as a father. He had wept tears of bitterness and despair. Only to discover it was all a ruse. In her efforts to gain revenge for the death of Mikkos and Stavros, his grandmother had targeted Luke Spencer. And the easiest way to do that was to mess with his children. Helena had toyed with the life of his half-brother Lucky, and, when Stefan was on the verge of exposing her, she had plotted to kill Stefan. 

Only Stefan had grown wise to her measures. He had allowed her to think she had succeeded in his "death". But, worst of all, his uncle had allowed _him_ to believe it as well. The one person he had always believed would never hurt him intentionally had nearly destroyed him, and done it wittingly. Yet Stefan had not only messed with his life, but with the life of a fellow Port Charles citizen: Chloe Morgan. 

A small part of him understood his uncle's actions, though. After all, Helena really had been trying to kill him. Stefan faking his death had been drastic, but perhaps a necessary evil. Yes, he could understand why Stefan had made his decision. What he could not understand, what he would never understand, was why his uncle had left him believing the worst. He could have kept with his uncle's plan. Perhaps even helped in it. Stefan choosing silence over trust had been an unforgivable act. 

His uncle knew. . .Stefan knew what losing another person he loved would do to him. He had grown up without his parents. At one point, he had believed both his mother and brother dead. Stefan knew the callousness of that act, but he had still chosen to proceed with his plan. 

However, the tables were now turned. It was Stefan who suffered most, for he had lost the trust of Nikolas and the love of Chloe Morgan. They had both shut him out of their lives after learning the horrible truth. 

Something in the mist seemed to shift, drawing Nikolas away from his dark thoughts. He squinted to make out the form in the thick fog. A man stepped forward, and he felt himself pale as he caught a glimpse of his face. It was impossible. . .it simply couldn't be. . . 

"Nikolas." 

He started, whirling around to meet the beautiful eyes of his friend and housemate, Gia Campbell. 

"Did you see him?" he demanded. 

"See who?" she asked, turning to follow his gaze to an empty yard. "All I see is fog, Nikolas." 

"H-He was there," Nikolas snapped, motioning to the empty space. "I saw him!" 

"Saw who?" she asked, concern touching her beautiful face. 

He touched his forehead, trying uselessly to erase the stunning image from his mind. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. His mind was playing tricks on him. "No one," he assured, turning back to her with a smile. "No one. I just thought I saw something, but it was nothing." 

"Nikolas, you look pale," Gia stated, reaching out to touch his face. "Are you sick?" 

He started at her touch, unable to resist the surge of attraction he felt for her. Gia Campbell had came into his life at the worst possible time, but he was damned if he could find any reason to be sorry she was here. She was sassy and spirited with a sharp tongue from time to time, but she had proven to be a loyal friend to him. She had helped him through Stefan's "death". And, in return, he had offered her a place to stay when she needed it most. 

Sometimes he regretted that decision. Like late at night when he could hear her walking around in the door that was so close to his own. Or when her hand accidentally brushed his at the dinner table. Or, like now, when she was standing so close he could smell the gentle scent of her cologne. He was taken back by her absolute beauty. It was utterly flawless. 

He took a step back, reminding himself that she was his friend and nothing more. Perhaps not for wanting on his part. But he had lost enough people as it was. The last thing he wanted was to risk losing her because of his careless heart. How foolish it had been to fall for a woman he couldn't have! 

"I'm fine," he assured her, even though he didn't believe it himself. He slid his hands in his pockets to hide how badly they shook. 

"Your uncle is on the phone," Gia hesitantly stated, knowing full well what his reaction would be. 

He did not disappoint her. His dark eyes narrowed with anger as he insisted, "Hang up on him." 

"Nikolas, please," she laid a hand on his arm. "Don't push him away. He made a mistake and he's sorry for it." 

She sighed in defeat, realizing that her words were having no affect. She had always been a loner in the past. She had had no real friends until she met this man. Her mother had pushed her to be a success. Her mother had insisted that she had to work hard at everything because she was a woman and an African American and no one would hand her anything in life. Nikolas Cassadine had been the only one to accept her for who she was. He had looked past her tough Brooklyn attitude and saw something in her he liked. He had encouraged her to pursue her own dreams. And she had. 

Her friend Carly Corinthos had made her an offer she couldn't refuse months ago: to become a model for the make-up company Carly owned with Nikolas' mother, Laura. She had accepted, and her career had blossomed. She had never mentioned this to anyone, but other modeling agencies had come calling, offering her high priority jobs and lucrative contracts. But she had turned them all down. Not out of loyalty to _Deception_ , but out of an overwhelming desire to stay in Port Charles. To stay with Nikolas Cassadine. 

She now earned enough to have her own penthouse if she wanted it, but she still chose to rent a room from him at his cottage. He had yet to mention her moving out, and she had never considered it aloud to him, either. She was still clinging to a small hope that he would one day open his eyes and see her. Not as a friend or a housemate. Or as someone who worked for his mother, but as a woman. A woman who loved him. 

"You know, you once asked me to remind you of how much you loved your uncle," she reminded him of the day in his mother's office he had made the poignant request of her. "Consider yourself reminded." 

"I'm going to work," he sighed, walking away before he was forced to admit that she was right. 

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Are you feeling okay, Nikolas?" 

Nikolas Cassadine glanced up from his work to meet the eyes of the beautiful Chloe Morgan. Sometimes it was difficult to see her, for it reminded him of his uncle's betrayal. But he imagined she must feel the same about him from time to time. Still, it would be impossible not to see her since they worked in the same building. He had always liked Chloe, for he had known her long before she had fallen in love with his uncle. Oddly enough, Stefan's betrayal had strengthened their friendship rather than divided it. 

Forcing a smile, he assured, "I'm fine." 

"Funny, but that isn't what Ned and Liz have said today. In fact, they seem to think you have been distracted all day." 

"Liz has been in and out of the office," he reminded, referring to his brother's girlfriend. "And Ned has been on a tare today. He's nervous about the next Eddie Maine concert." 

Chloe smiled at the mention of Ned Ashton, owner of L&B Records. Ned and Nikolas' Aunt Alexis were her two closest friends. They had been happily married for many months now. They were an odd combination. Alexis a high powered attorney, and Ned a man who lived a double life as nice guy record executive Ned Ashton and super star rocker Eddie Maine. 

"Well, it doesn't matter, because Ned has told me to tell you to go home. He says he and I can handle closing the place down today." 

Nikolas considered arguing, but chose not to. Since this morning, he had not been able to keep his mind focused. Nodding reluctantly, he gave Chloe a light kiss on the cheek before leaving the office. 

Stepping out into the parking lot, he was startled to realize how dark it was. It was later than he had thought. Gia should be home by now, he thought with a pleased smile as he moved to the black Jaguar that was waiting to take him home. 

"Nikolas." 

Startled, he dropped his car keys and whirled around in the direction of the raspy voice. The figure stood in the shadows, the pale light offering a small glimpse of his face. A cold chill ran down his spine and he took a hesitant step backwards, nearly coming out of his skin when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. 

"Whoa, big brother, clam down," Lucky Spencer laughed when his sibling whirled around to face him. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just dropped by to see if Elizabeth was off work yet." 

Nikolas roughly grabbed his brother's arm and turned him to face the corner of the building, demanding, "Do you see him?" 

"See who?" Lucky asked, his blue eyes scanning the darkness but coming up empty. "Who are we looking for?" 

"He was right there!" Cassadine all but shouted. 

"Calm down, bro. My God, Nikolas, you are shaking," concern touched the younger man's eyes. "What's wrong? Who did you see?" 

He seemed to hesitate a moment, but then confided, "My father. I saw my father." 

"That can't be possible," Lucky gentled his tone. "Stavros is dead." 

"Like they told me our mother was dead? Like you were suppose to be dead? Like Stefan was dead?" he challenged. 

"Your father died when you were a baby," his brother gently reminded. "Everyone knows that. There were witnesses." 

Cassadine ran a shaky hand through his black hair, leaning against the Jag as he sighed, "God, Lucky, I think I am losing my mind." 

* * *

**Chapter 4 Paris, France**

Duncan MacLeod moved across the room, his shoes clicking on the polished floors. He was a striking figure in his black tuxedo, and he received several appreciate smiles from the ladies. He returned their attention with a polite smile, but his eyes warned them not to mistake it for an invitation. He was the host tonight, and he was expected to greet his guests. 

What few of them would arrive tonight, he thought, meeting the eyes of Methos across the room and frowning darkly. Methos offered an apologetic, if not smirky, smile. 

He turned his attention back to the task at hand. Tonight was a special night for it had been set aside to honor the woman he loved above all others. The beautiful face of Tessa Noel smiled back at him from a large photograph set in the entrance of the room. Every year, he honored her memory with an art show, the proceeds of which went to the scholarship he had arranged in her name where she had attended college. 

Tessa had been a talented artist, known about the world for her stunning sculptures. But to him she had been his life. His love. 

With her, he had found something of a family. They had taken in the orphan Richie Ryan and had lived, dare he say it, happily for awhile. For a brief time, he had felt as if he had a wife and son to go home to. He would enter their home in Seacouver, Washington in the States and call out, "Tessa, I'm home." Then followed by an immediate, "Richie!" He would be greeted with a kiss from Tess and a million-dollar smile from Richie. 

But they were gone now. Two more lives cut short by the violence and death that was his Immortal life. 

Tonight, though, was meant for happy memories. He would socialize and make small talk with his and Tessa's friends. They would bid on the various art works donated for the show held annually in her memory. Half of the profits he would give to the art school scholarship he had created for her, the other half would go in honor of Richie to an orphanage in the States. The orphanage were Richie had spent most of his childhood. It was the best way he knew to keep both of their memories alive. 

"Champagne?" 

He turned at the invitation, frowning at Methos who was extending him a glass. "Oh, come now, Mac," he scowled. "You cannot stay mad at me forever." 

"Do you want to bet?" the Scotsman challenged. 

"Perhaps 'forever' was the wrong word," the world's oldest living Immortal admitted. "I have said repeatedly that I am sorry. I owe you one. Besides, I would wager that you are having an excellent turnout despite--" 

"Despite the fact that you forgot to mail half the invitations?" he finished. 

"I didn't forget to mail them," he readily defended himself. "I forgot to include the postage. So I'm imperfect. Sue me." 

"I would rather behead you right now," Duncan grumbled. 

"Not in public. People might talk," Methos countered with his smooth comeback. 

"Can't you two call a truce for one night?" Joe Dawson pleaded as he joined the two, leaning heavily on the cane in his hand. He had lost both of his legs to the Vietnam War, but he discovered something in the process. He had discovered Immortals, and had become a Watcher. Duncan MacLeod's Watcher, to be exact. But, more importantly, he had become Mac's friend. 

Duncan was about to reply when a soft voice from behind drew his attention. Turning, he smiled as the beautiful woman walked across the room to him. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, stepping back to admire her elegant grace, "You look wonderful." 

"So do you," Chloe Morgan returned the praise. "Although I am a bit disappointed in you, Mac. I had to make several calls just to see if I was on the guest list for tonight. I never received my invitation." 

MacLeod tossed a pointedly look at Methos before explaining, "My assistant Jeeves forgot to mail them." 

"I didn't know you had an assistant," Chloe laughed. 

"I don't. . .anymore." Taking her slender arm, he turned her to his friends, introducing, "I would like you to meet Chloe Morgan. Chloe, this is Joe Dawson. And Jeeves." 

"Adam Pierson," Methos corrected, calling himself by the alias he had been using for several years now. 

Chloe shook his hand in greeting and then accepted the hand of the older gentleman. "It's a pleasure to meet you both." 

"The pleasure is mine," Joe Dawson assured. Turning back to MacLeod, he admonished, "You never told me you were friends with one of the world's best designers." 

"Actually, Chloe was friends with Tessa," he corrected. "They meet several years ago at one of Chloe's fashion shows." 

"Yes," Chloe agreed. "Tessa was very kind to me. She showed me around Paris and introduced me to her friends, including this man right here. I never miss an opportunity to honor her. By the way, you look wonderful, Duncan. I swear you haven't aged a day since I first meet you." 

"Good skin runs in his family," Methos assured with his all-too-innocent smile. 

"I think they are getting ready to start the bidding," he extended his arm to her. "Shall I escort you? Coming, Joe?" 

"Oh, don't mind me," Methos called after the trio as they walked past him. "I'll just go outside and read the graffiti on the sidewalk." 

  


"You made an excellent profit tonight," Chloe Morgan congratulated as she watched Duncan carefully cover Tessa's picture with a sheet for safe transportation. The auction had ended hours ago, but she had stayed to help him over see the cleaning up. Besides, she had things she wanted to discuss with him. "Tessa would be so proud of you." 

He forced a smile, but she could still see the lingering pain in his eyes. An old soul was how Tess had often described him. He had the face and body of a man in his early thirties, but he had the eyes of a man much, much older. Wisdom and sorrow lay in their deep brown depths. A wisdom she often envied. 

Hesitantly, she broached the subject. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about Richie. I tried to call several times, but I never got in touch with you." 

"I left the country for awhile," he stated vaguely. _I had his death to avenge._

"I can only imagine how difficult that was for you," she sympathetically stated. "Tess always talked about him when she wrote to me. It must have been Hell, losing him only a few years after losing Tessa. How. . ." she asked in awe, "how do you do it, Mac?" 

He offered a slight shrug, stating, "One day at a time. I know it sounds like a cliché, but when you lose someone, you do have to go on. With any luck, maybe you can find love again someday." 

Pain flashed in her eyes at his words, and she softly inquired, "But what if you do love again, and that person hurts you, too?" 

"Then you try again," he advised. 

"Even if it takes a hundred years," she laughed. 

_Try four hundred,_ he thought. He knew she had been involved with a businessman named Jax once, but their relationship had failed. Was it possible that Chloe had fallen in love again, and had been hurt? Deciding to change the subject, he asked, "Will you be in Paris long?" 

"A few days," she admitted. "I have some business to take care of. But I need to get back to Port Charles soon. A friend of mine is going through a difficult time, and I would like to be there for him." 

"Will you stop by the barge before you go?" he asked. 

"Of course," she assured. 

"I'll look forward to it," he assured, kissing her cheek before he turned to leave. 

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Soccer is on channel three, MacLeod," Methos announced, thumbing through a magazine as he sat with his feet propped on the glass coffee table of his friend's barge. 

"Leave it alone," Duncan MacLeod called the warning from the kitchen. "I want to see the news." 

"Why?" the oldest living Immortal challenged. "It's hardly like it affects us. In three hundred years, will you even care what happened on this day in history?" 

MacLeod's lithe body strolled toward his friend. He none too gently used his foot to push Methos' feet off his coffee table before laying his plate and glass of milk where they had just been. He sat down across from the other man, reached for his sandwich and questioned, "In three hundred years, will anyone even care who won the soccer game tonight?" 

"Yes," Methos sulked. "I will care." 

MacLeod smiled at that, taking a bite of his sandwich as a knock fell on the door. "Get that," he ordered around a mouthful of bread. 

Methos stood, grumbling under his breath as he went to the door and swung it open. "Ms. Morgan," he greeted with his best flirtatious smile. "Come in. May I take your coat?" 

"Why, thank you, Jeeves," she teased, allowing him to take her outer garment. "Hi, Mac." 

"Chloe. What a pleasant surprise," he stood in greeting. "Can I offer you something?" 

"I don't believe this," she announced, the light sparkling off her blonde hair as she moved towards the television. She took the remote from the coffee table and turned the volume up. 

Duncan turned to see what had captured her attention. A picture of a young man he guessed to be in his early twenties was on the screen. He listened curiously as the anchor woman spoke, "Now, in world news, another major shake-up in the Cassadine family. As we reported months ago, the believed dead Stefan Cassadine was actually found to be alive. Now, a sad development, Stefan Cassadine's nephew, the heir to the Cassadine Empire, Prince Nikolas Cassadine is reported to have been placed into a mental hospital in the small town of Port Charles, New York, in the USA. The Prince is rumored to be suffering from delusions and hallucinations. He was committed by his grandmother, Helena Cassadine, who is trustee over the Cassadine Empire. However, the Prince's mother, Laura Spencer, and his half-brother, Lucas "Lucky" Spencer, are reportedly fighting to have him removed from the hospital. His uncle Stefan Cassadine has had no comment. We will update you further on this story as details become available to us. There is no word on how this will affect the Cassadine Empire since Nikolas is the Prince and sole heir. To update our viewers, the Cassadines are of--" 

"Royal Russian blood," Duncan spoke softly to Methos. "They escaped the Revolution with their fortune intact and settled in Greece." 

"And how would you know that?" Methos inquired. 

"Because I helped them escape," he quietly stated. 

"She can't do this!" Chloe exclaimed, turning back to Duncan with fury burning in her eyes. "That horrible, evil woman cannot do this to Nikolas!" 

"Calm down," MacLeod advised. "Tell me what this is about." 

"It's about an evil, sick monster named Helena Cassadine. And--" she broke off, reaching up to rub her aching temples. "You know, never mind. You don't need to be dragged into this mess. I'm sorry, Duncan, but I have to leave." 

She stood on tiptoe and placed a quick kiss on his cheek before hurrying from the barge. MacLeod watched her leave, and then reached for the phone. 

"What was that all about?" Methos asked. 

Ignoring him, Duncan spoke to the voice on the other end, "I need to book a reservation for two on your next flight to the United States, please. Port Charles, New York. The reservations should be for Duncan MacLeod and Adam Pierson." 

"Me?!" Methos exclaimed at the mention of his current alias. "What purpose do I have to travel with you?" 

"You owe me," MacLeod reminded, his dark eyes drifting back to the television screen. "And I owe the Cassadines." 

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Ferncliffe Mental Ward   
New York 

Methos--Adam Pierson--strolled down the polished halls of the hospital, Duncan MacLeod close on his heels. 

"I forget to post a few silly invitations and now you torture me like this," he grumbled. "You drag me to some ridiculous little town in the middle of nowhere and demand that I play a psychiatrist!" 

"You were a doctor in several of your previous lives," MacLeod reminded. 

"Yes, a General Practitioner. Not a shrink! So this kid's great, great, great, great grand-something-or-other trice removed saved your worthless neck once and now I must decide if he is a lobotomy case or not!" 

"Chloe seemed very upset by the news," Duncan reminded. "Besides, I looked a few articles up on the Internet. It was hinted to that this Nikolas Cassadine was committed by his grandmother in an effort to gain control of his inheritance. An inheritance that I risked my 'worthless neck' to help smuggled out of Russia once." 

The two men grew silent as a clearly displeased doctor approached them. "I take it you two are the puppets Helena has sent over," Dr. Kevin Collins greeted with obvious disapproval. 

"I am Dr. Adam Pierson," Methos had said the lie so often over the centuries it came easily to him now. "And this is my assistant, Jeeves." 

"Oh, he's always joking," Duncan laughed, placing a sound elbow in the other man's side as he moved to shake the doctor's hand. "I'm Duncan MacLeod. And, yes, we were commissioned by Mrs. Cassadine to interview her grandson and judge his mental state." 

"Nikolas' mental state is being cared for without intervention from outsiders," Collins stated with obvious distrust. 

"So, in other words--between one doctor to another--he is a loon and I can go home now, correct?" Methos asked. 

"Can we see him?" Duncan interjected. 

"Only under my supervision," Collins stated. "And one at a time. Dr. Pierson, if you will follow me." 

"You two go on," Duncan encouraged. "I'll just stay here." 

He waited until the pair was out of sight before turning to a mental patient he saw being walked down the hall. His long legs carried him to the patient and nurse. Adjusting the white doctor's coat he had "borrowed", he stopped the nurse and stated, "The patient in room 103 needs your assistance. Here, I will take care of this gentleman." 

"Certainly, Doctor," she assured without question. 

"Congratulations, sir," Duncan spoke to the man. "You've just been given a day's pass into town. Now, head on off out the front door there." 

"Why, thank you, Doctor!" the man exclaimed and begin wandering toward the front door. The security guards moved to stop him, and the nurses abandoned their station to help. 

"Bingo," Duncan mumbled under his breath as he took the opportunity to slip behind the nurse's desk. He quickly fumbled through the files, snagging the one with Cassadine's name on it and slipping from behind the desk unnoticed. 

He moved down the hall to a quiet spot and began scanning the file. His dark eyes missed nothing as he absorbed the information written by this Dr. Collins. He was nearly to the bottom of the page when he felt it. The sensation that was in him, around him, touching his very soul. 

It was the presence of another Immortal. 

Duncan stood to his full height then and began looking around. A man at the end of the hall caught his attention. The orderly was walking away from him, in a bit of a rush. All MacLeod could clearly glimpse was the back of his head. 

"Excuse me," he called to the stranger, who quicken his pace. 

Duncan moved to catch him, but was stopped when two orderlies stepped in his line of vision. He maneuvered around them, but the man was gone. And so was the sensation. The Immortal was no longer there. 

"I'm sorry, Doctor," one of the orderlies was saying. "That is a restricted area and you cannot go there without permission." 

"Forgive me, gentlemen," he assured. "I didn't know. I was looking for Dr. Collins and Dr. Pierson." 

"We will take you to him," one volunteered, taking his upper arm and steering him away from the door the Immortal had just slipped out of. 

Duncan was led down a different corridor. Collins and Methos stood outside of the room, talking quietly. Methos glanced up when he felt the presence of Duncan, nodding in greeting as he was joined by his fellow Immortal. 

"Is something wrong?" he politely inquired. 

"You know damn well there is," Kevin Collins hissed in fury. 

"The good doctor here seems to think we have brought a magic potion with us that has made the Prince slip into the depths of insanity," Methos cheerfully related, his voice taking on the melodramatic tone Mac hated so. "He thinks the Grandmother Cassadine provided us with this mysterious oil and we must have crept into his room at midnight and poured it into the ear of young Prince Nikolas while he slept for--" 

"This is not funny!" Collins raised his voice in anger. "Helena is plotting to destroy a good and decent young man. He was on the verge of being released. But you already know that, don't you, _'Doctors'_? His family has had his medical care turned over to me and I was to declare him competent soon. That is why Helena brought you two in here. And whatever drug she gave him sent him into a panic earlier. I just had to sedate him." 

"He seemed quite insane to me, Mac," Methos assured. "Ranting and raving about dead people bringing him his food. He's a fruitcake. I'm going home now." 

"Not yet," Duncan warned, shooting the other man a dark glare. "Can we see him?" 

"I don't see the point now. He's been sedated. But go ahead." 

MacLeod and Methos stepped around the man and entered the stark white room. Two nurses were in the room, and Methos nodded to dismiss them. The two men moved to stand over the bed where the Prince slept. Duncan recognized him from the photo he had seen on the news and in several articles he had looked up on the Internet. 

"If he wasn't already crazy, living here certainly would make him," Methos stated when the nurses were gone. "Trust me, Mac, the boy is a basketcase. I saw with my own two lovely Immortal eyes." 

"Speaking of which," Duncan stated, producing the file he had stolen and compared it with the chart on the foot of the bed, "one of us was in the hall earlier." 

"You're kidding me?" 

"No. I didn't get a good look at him, and he ran the moment he felt my presence. You said that Cassadine mentioned a 'dead man'?" 

"Don't go there with me, Mac!" Methos warned. "I know what you are thinking and you're wrong. The boy is hallucinating his dead father. A father who, might I add, had a history of his own mental illnesses." 

"How did you know that?" the Scotsman asked. 

"I'm not a complete quack. It was one of the first things I asked the good Dr. Collins. Stavros Cassadine had a history of drinking and mental illness. He died years ago." 

"Yeah, well, so did I," MacLeod felt the need to remind. 

"Excuse me, Doctors," a nurse interrupted as she entered the room. "I need to check his vitals." 

"Certainly," Duncan smiled sweetly. Letting the file fall to the floor, he pretended innocence as he asked, "Is this important?" 

"My goodness, yes!" she exclaimed. "I wonder how that got here. Dr. Collins would have my job if he found out." 

"You're secret is safe with me," MacLeod assured, offering her a winning smile that made her blush. "Come now, Dr. Pierson, let the lady do her job." 

"You are frighteningly good at that," Methos complimented as they stepped into the hall. 

The two walked in silence back toward the reception area. Duncan spotted Dr. Collins as he was talking with a lovely blonde haired woman and a young man. Mac judged to be about eighteen. Collins spotted them, and said something to the pair. The woman turned her fury in his direction. She was strikingly beautiful, with wide blue eyes and gold-blonde hair. The boy was handsome, as well. 

"What have you done to my son?" Laura Spencer demanded. 

"Mrs. Cassadine--" Methos began only to be cut off. 

"It's Spencer. Laura Spencer," she hissed in fury. "How can you live with yourselves?" 

"Mom," a concerned Lucky Spencer tried to intervene. 

"How much is Helena paying you?" she continued her tirade. "I will double it! I just want my son back!" 

Her voice broke then, and Duncan felt his heart go out to her. He could see the pain in her exquisite eyes. He reached a hand out to her, only to have her pull away. 

"Don't touch me! Helena is taking my son away and you are helping her! How can you live with yourself? How would you feel if you lost your son!" she screamed at him. 

The smiling face of Richie Ryan flashed through his mind. Before he could stop himself, he whispered hoarsely, "I already have." 

Something in his eyes stopped Laura. Or maybe it was his words. He knew, she realized. On some level, he knew what she was going through right now. 

Duncan reached for her hand again, and this time she didn't pull away. "You will have your son back, Mrs. Spencer," he softly promised. "I will see to that myself." 

"Get away from my mother," Lucky warned. "And stay the Hell away from Nikolas, too. He was doing fine until today. We came here expecting him to be released. Instead we find more of Helena's treachery." 

"I think it's time we leave now, Mac," Methos suggested. 

Duncan nodded, but felt the need to assure, "I meant what I said. It's a promise I will keep." 

"Yeah, well tell Helena she won't win this time," Lucky spat back. "That's a promise I will keep." 

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Nikolas Cassadine awoke to the gentle feel of a cool hand caressing his brow. For a moment, he was safe and at home. He was in his bed and-- 

"Gia?" he mumbled. 

"No, sweetheart, it's your mom," Laura Spencer assured. 

The sedative was finally starting to wear off, and he forced his eyes to focus. He sat up in the bed with her help, shaking his head to clear it. "Mom. It's good to see you." 

"It's good to see you, too, sweetie," Laura forced herself to sound light. "Your brother was here earlier. But he had to leave. Kevin is breaking a few rules to let me stay this long, but he felt it would be best for you to see a familiar face from time to time." 

He ran a hand though his dark hair, sighing, "Dr. Collins told you, didn't he? About earlier. . .?" 

"He said you had some type of incident, Nikki," she admitted. "But you know it was Helena's doings, don't you? She orchestrated--" 

"No," he butted in, holding a hand up to ward off her tender lies. "This was not Helena, Mom. This was me. I saw Stavros today. Just as I have seen him a half dozen times before. I'm just like him, aren't I? I'm insane?" 

"No, baby, no," Laura wept, pulling him into her arms for a tight hug. "I won't let you be. We are all fighting for you. Alexis is in court every day trying to get herself named your guardian. She already had you transferred over to Dr. Collins' care. But Helena asked for a 'second opinion' from a doctor of her choice. They came today. Anyhow, just as soon as Alexis is granted guardianship, she will sign you out of his place the minute it happens. If Stefan doesn't break you out first. He is so upset over this, Nikolas. He is doing everything he can." 

"I know," Nikolas assured. "He comes nearly every day. I'm worried about him. He looks more and more haggard every visit." 

"He loves you so much," she reminded. "In his heart, you are really his son. And I think a small part of you has forgiven him for his mistakes. Just like you have forgiven me for mine." 

"I guess," he admitted. He was quiet for a long moment, but then asked, "How is Gia? Has she written me off yet?" 

"No," Laura assured. "She asks about you every day. She wants to visit, but Kevin has restricted your visitors to only me, Lucky, Alexis, and Stefan. He feels it is best that way." 

The door opened then, and Collins stuck his head in. He quietly motioned for Laura to follow him outside. Once in the hall, she demanded, "You got the test results back, didn't you? It proves Nikolas was drugged? I knew it!" 

Kevin released a tired sigh as he admitted, "No. In fact, the only thing we found in his blood work was the sedative we gave him. I'm sorry, Laura, but whatever is happening to Nikolas isn't an outside force. It's in his mind. He was hallucinating today. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I saw it with my own eyes. He honestly believed that his father was in that room today." 

"Excuse me, Dr. Collins," a nurse interrupted. "I think we have a problem. . ." 

* * *

**Chapter 8**

MacLeod sipped the cool beer as he sat across the table from his good friend "the doctor". 

"If you want my expert opinion--" 

"I don't," Duncan assured. 

"Well since you asked me to play the role of town shrink, you will get my opinion anyway," he assured. "The boy is a loon." 

"Not according to all the tests Dr. Collins did," he refuted. "I got a good look at his medical record. Collins did every test he could possibly do. All were normal. The CAT Scan was normal. Collins found no reason to declare Nikolas Cassadine incompetent." 

"Save the delusions he had in my presence," he reminded. "And the fact that his father had a history of mental instability." 

"The father that he thinks he has been seeing," Duncan sighed. "There was an Immortal present at Ferncliffe today. If this Stavros Cassadine is one of us, he had a history of instability even before he 'died'. We both know what a shock to the system it is to learn you are Immortal. A man with a weak mind could easily slip even further into madness. As for Nikolas, to see your presumed dead father would shock anyone." 

"But why wait so many years to contact this Nikolas?" Methos challenged. "We need to dig a little deeper in to this family's past." 

"Aren't you glad you have me for that," a new voice added. 

Both men turned to see a newspaper being lowered at the table beside them, a smile spreading across the face of Joe Dawson. "Not even going to say hello?"

"What are you doing here?" MacLeod asked. 

Joe stood then, carrying his chair to their table and setting down. "I am your Watcher, Mac. I go where you go. But first I read my 'Duncan MacLeod Archive Highlights'," he said with a laugh. "I find out that you were once friends with the Cassadine family. You helped them escape the Revolution and make it safely to Greece. You are friends with Chloe Morgan, who is the ex-lover of Stefan Cassadine, who is the uncle of the Prince himself. Enter Duncan MacLeod to repay his debt, save the day, land the lady, and decapitate the Immortal." 

"You make my life sound like a cheesy romance novel," he complained. "All I really want is to prove Nikolas is not insane. Call your people. Tell me what you can find out about Stavros Cassadine. And if he is, shall we say, still among the living." 

"And what the Hell is that suppose to mean?" Luke Spencer demanded. 

"No offense, but this is a private conversation," Methos replied. 

"And this is _my_ bar," Luke rudely assured. 

"Then we can go somewhere else," MacLeod volunteered. 

"Stay right where you are, Brit," Spencer warned. 

"I'm Scottish," he replied, his accent made more prominent by his growing irritation. "And the conversation I'm having with my friends is a private one." 

"Well, let me give you a piece of advice, Sean Connery: I heard you mention the name Stavros Cassadine. Anything to do with him becomes my business." 

"And why is that?" Dawson inquired. 

"Because I killed the bastard," Luke Spencer assured. "And I would do it all over again if I could. Now what business of it is yours?" 

"Nothing that concerns you, Luke," Laura Spencer announced, strolling toward them. "These gentlemen work for me. They are helping me with Nikolas." 

Spencer accepted the explanation, but still mumbled under his breath as he walked away. Duncan stood then, snatching a chair from a nearby table and offering it to her. She sat down with a nod of thanks. 

"How did you find us?" he curiously asked. 

"Port Charles is a small town. Any particular reason you are drinking at the bar owned by my ex-husband?" 

"The man who killed the father of your son?" Duncan challenged. "Merely a coincidence. But why are you now socializing and even covering for us, Mrs. Spencer? A few hours ago, you wanted me out of your sight." 

A hint of a smile touched Laura's face as she admitted, "The strangest thing happened after you left the hospital. The _real_ doctors that Helena hired showed up to evaluate Nikolas. Leaving me to wonder who you two really are." 

"Let's just say I'm keeping a promise to an old friend," he suggested, the image of Gretchen Cassadine filling his mind. 

"And would that friend be Helena Cassadine?" she asked. 

"No. In all honestly, I have never met the lady. All I want to do is help your son, Mrs. Spencer," he assured. 

"Even if it means ensuing the wrath of Helena?" she inquired, impressed by this man. 

"Helena Cassadine means nothing to me. And she is no threat to me," Duncan readily stated. 

"You're either a fool. . .or a very bare man, Mr. MacLeod," Laura complimented. "Or maybe I am the fool, because I trust you. I'm not sure why, but I do." 

"Call me Duncan," he invited. "And I don't believe you have meet Joe Dawson." 

"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Spencer," Joe assured. 

Laura smiled at the other man. His hair was mostly a silver gray, but she had a sense that it was prematurely gray. A closely trimmed beard complimented his handsome face and emphasized his blue eyes. She was startled by how handsome she found him to be. 

"Call me Laura," she insisted. "What are you plans to help my son?" 

"First, we need to know whatever information you can give us, Laura," Duncan put in. "Like why your son was declared incompetent?" 

"Because it is Helena's only way to control him," she sighed. "Helena is the Stavros' mother. He was Nikolas' father. My son is the heir to the Cassadine Empire, but he cannot claim it until the day of his twenty-fifth birthday. Until then, Helena is the trustee. In a sense, giving her the ultimate control in this on-going battle she has with her other son, Stefan. Neither of them is above hurting my son to best the other." 

"So Nikolas is their pawn," Duncan added. 

"No," Laura sadly sighed. "Nikolas is their prize. He is the Prince. Whoever controls him controls the money and power. For a long time it was Stefan that had the power. He was a father figure to Nikolas. My son loved him deeply, and I know that Stefan felt the same in return. But nothing is ever that simple when dealing with the Cassadines. Stefan used loyalty and love to control Nikolas. Now Helena uses lies and deceit." 

"She is convincing the town that Nikolas is insane," Methos stated, rather than asked. 

"My son is not crazy, Dr. Pierson," she assured. "I will never believe that of him. Helena knows that her power lasts only until he turns twenty-five, then he is given full access to his inheritance." 

"But if he is institutionalized," Dawson finished the tale, "then she stays in control." 

"Not if I have any say so," MacLeod replied. "Can I have your permission to see Nikolas? Preferably tonight?" 

She hesitated visibly, but then nodded her permission. "I'll call Kevin Collins and have it arranged." 

"Good," MacLeod stood, taking his long black coat from the back of his chair and slipping it on. Turning to Methos, he nudged the other man, "Let's go." 

"Me?" he protested. 

"Yeah, you, Dr. Pierson," he replied, none to gently grabbing the other man by the collar and pulling him from the seat. Turning to Laura, he politely stated, "Thank you for your help." 

"Thank you for yours," she smiled in gratitude, watching as the two men left the bar. Turning back to Joe, she commented, "Your friends are. . .interesting." 

He laughed. "In other words, you like Mac but you think Pierson is a pain in the--" 

Her soft, musical laugh cut him off. "Exactly," she laughed. 

She had a beautiful laugh, and Joe couldn't help but smile at her as he replied, "Don't worry, we all feel that way about Adam Pierson. But, occasionally, he has his good moments." 

In a voice of genuine gratitude, she stated, "Thank you, Joe. It's been a long time since I have laughed like that." 

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his own as he assured, "Being a parent is a difficult job. Especially when your child is in danger, and you can't just wave your hand and make it all better." 

"You sound like you are talking from personal experience," she hedged. "Do you have children?" 

"One daughter," he acknowledged. "But I'm afraid I wasn't the best parent to her. I let her be raised by her mother and step-father because I thought it was best for her." 

"Wow," Laura felt tears sting the backs of her eyes as she admitted, "we have more in common than you know. I wasn't there for most of Nikolas' life. I just want the chance to make that up to him now." 

"Mac will help your son, Laura," he reassured. "He won't stop until he gets to the bottom of this." 

"You make him sound like a super hero." 

"Well, he's as close as they come to being one, I suppose. And, despite his lousy attitude, Pierson is a decent guy. He just likes to complain. I guess at his age, he's entitled," he mumbled mostly to himself. 

"Oh, come on," she stated in disbelief. "That man is younger than me." 

A knowing smile touched Joe's face at that. If he were to tell this beautiful woman that the "young man" who had just left was actually somewhere in the range of 5,000 years old, she would have _him_ committed to Ferncliffe. The Watchers had searched for ages for the mystical Immortal known only as Methos. A man with centuries and centuries of wisdom and knowledge and life experience. Half of his people had thought he was little more than a myth. But Joe had yearned to find what he thought would be a wise, enlightened soul. Instead, he had discovered that the real Methos was cynical, sarcastic, and a real wise ass. However, most of it was a front. Methos was not much different than MacLeod. He loved, hated, cared for his friends, and fought his enemies to the finish. 

A few years ago, the Watchers had assigned a young, eager researcher named Adam Pierson to find the legend that was Methos. What they didn't know was that they were hiring Methos to find himself! And the man took great pains to assure that he was never found out. Oh, Joe imagined Adam had had quiet a few chuckles to himself about how he was "out-smarting" those mere mortals. The truth had been exposed eventually, and for reasons unknown even to himself, he had chosen to keep the secret of Adam's true identity. Aside from a select few, no one knew that Pierson was really Methos. 

Remembering his conversation with Laura, he turned back to her and admitted, "Adam can be deceiving." 

She accepted the vague response, requesting, "Would you excuse me, please? I need to call Kevin and let him know what is happening." 

"Certainly," he agreed. He waited until she had walked away from the table to pull out his cell phone. Quickly dialing the number, he barked, "This is Dawson. Find out everything you can on a Stavros Cassadine. He might be an Immortal. I need confirmation. Oh, and while you are at it, check out Laura Spencer for me, too." 

He hung up the phone then, and turned his attention to the pay phones where the blonde beauty was making her call. He tried to tell himself that he was only covering all his angles, but a part of him knew better. A small part of him knew he was investigating Laura for his own personal interest. 

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Nikolas Cassadine eyed the other man with wary distrust. He knew nothing about Duncan MacLeod and, with the state of current things as they were, he had no reason to trust the man. But his mother did for some reason, otherwise MacLeod would have never been allowed to see him. 

"I assure you, I am here to help," Duncan stated, sitting down at the narrow table in the room and motioning for Cassadine to do the same. 

He was startled by the resemblance that Nikolas bore to his ancestor, Gretchen Cassadine. Like her, he had dark hair and eyes. A similar facial structure. It was a bit uncanny. 

"Are you a doctor?" Nikolas asked. 

"No. I am. . .an old friend, let's say," he assured. "An old friend who believes that someone is making you believe you are insane." 

"How?" the Prince sighed in defeat. "I _saw_ my father, Mr. MacLeod. Even though I know it is impossible. I know that he is dead, but. . .it seemed so real." 

"Maybe it was," he pondered aloud. "According to Dr. Collins, your father died when you were just a child. How can you be so sure it was him?" 

"I've seen pictures of him. Old family photographs. Portraits. I assure you, it was him." 

"Or maybe someone that bore a striking resemblance to him," MacLeod countered. "Can you do something for me?" 

"I'll try." 

"The next time you 'see' this man, don't panic," he advised. "And don't push him away. Talk to him. See if he's real." 

Cassadine hesitated, but then agreed, "I will do my best." 

"Good," he nodded, standing to his feet. "I have to go now. But I will get to the bottom of this. I vow that on my honor." 

Nikolas nodded. There was something about this man that was trustworthy. Only five minutes in his presence, and he found himself believing in him. "Thank you. Just be careful. If my grandmother Helena is behind this, you could be in serious danger." 

"I'll be fine. Is there anything I can get for you?" he asked as he moved to the door. "Anything you want?" 

"Just my life back," he sighed. 

"Consider it done," Duncan assured with a smile before exiting the room. He walked back towards the reception area where Methos was waiting on him. 

"Tell me again why you dragged me here just to have me sit idly in the lobby?" he questioned. 

"Did our friend, the Shy Immortal, drop in?" the Highlander inquired. 

"No, not to my recollection." 

"Then you did your job," MacLeod complimented. "I wanted you here in case he wandered through again." 

"And what is your verdict of the good Prince?" Methos inquired. 

"He's as sane as you are," Duncan decreed, his attention darting over to where a young woman was arguing with Dr. Collins. 

"That's being going on for about ten minutes now," Methos sighed. "I presume that the young lady is quite taken with your Prince. She's insistent on seeing him, but the good Dr. Collins says no." 

"Who is she?" Duncan asked suspiciously. 

"He called her Gina or GeeGee or Gia or something," Methos shrugged. "Anyhow, what is your master plan, Oh Wise One?" 

Dragging his attention away from the girl, he announced, "We are going to kidnap ourselves a Prince." 

"What is this 'we'?" he protested. "I haven't done an abduction for centuries. And the last one I tried bloody near cost me my head. Furthermore--" 

"Methos," Duncan sighed. "Shut up. I have no intention of using you in my plan." 

"Then who else?" he called to the man's retreating back. When MacLeod made no answer, he sighed in realization, "Amanda." 

**Chapter 10**

"Amanda is on her way," Duncan MacLeod announced, hanging up the phone in his hotel room and turning to face his friends. 

"And, pray tell, what did you say to the world's oldest living cat burglar to make her abandon her wild and exciting life to trek to the States?" Methos inquired. He was stretched across the bed, idly flipping through the papers that Dawson's people had faxed them earlier that day. 

"I just told her I needed her help. And that it had to do with breaking the law and cracking tight security," he admitted. If there was one thing Amanda loved, it was a challenge. For her, being a professional cat burglar wasn't about money or treasure, it was about the thrill. 

"Would you at least be willing to explain this plan of yours to me?" Dawson inquired. 

MacLeod snagged a piece of cold pizza from the box on the table. He took a bite before beginning, "Your people couldn't substantiate for certain if the Immortal I saw at the hospital was Stavros Cassadine or not. So. . .if he won't expose himself to me, then I'll smoke him out. My guess is the Cassadines are trying to push Nikolas over the edge. But if the Prince disappears from the hospital, then they just might slip and expose themselves." 

"That's a terrible plan," Methos argued. "For one, security at Ferncliffe--security surrounding the Cassadine boy--is top notch." 

"That's what Amanda is for," MacLeod reminded. "The lady never met a lock she couldn't pick or a security systems she couldn't bypass. She'll get him out." 

"What about Laura Spencer?" Dawson asked. "She needs to know about this plan." 

"She will," Duncan promised. "I need her to help me convince Helena that Nikolas ran off on his own." 

"Speaking of Helena Cassadine," Methos announced as he thumbed through the papers he was reading, "are you absolutely certain you want to tangle with this woman? Between her, her dead husband and her psycho sons, it's a miracle she didn't blow up the town years ago. Not for lack of trying, though, I see. Their people are insane, MacLeod. They tried to freeze the world, for pities sake! This Stavros kidnapped Laura Spencer and forced her to marry him. After he died, his mother refused to allow Laura contact with her son Nikolas for years. Of course, there was some controversy about the boy's parentage. Hmmm. . .interesting." 

"Give me that," MacLeod insisted, snatching the papers from Methos' hands and scanning them. "According to this, Laura had an affair with Stefan while she was married to his brother. And it was believed that Stefan was the biological father of Nikolas. A DNA test a few years ago proved that to not be true, though." 

"What are you thinking, Mac?" Joe inquired. 

"If Stavros Cassadine is the biological father, then there is no way the man is an Immortal. Immortal's cannot have children," he sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. 

"So the Immortal at the hospital wasn't Stavros Cassadine," Methos concluded. "Meaning Nikolas is probably insane and we are risking or heads for nothing." 

"I'm going to call Laura," Duncan stated. 

"No. Eat your dinner. I'll call her," Joe volunteered, already moving to the phone. 

"Someone has a crush," an amused Methos pointed out. 

* * *

**Chapter 11**

"Nikolas." 

The voice stirred him from a restless sleep. Moonlight streamed through the barred window, and he guessed it was well after midnight. He rolled over in the narrow bed, and stilled at the sight that awaited him. 

A man stood in the shadow of the room, and he feared he knew who it was. Stavros Cassadine. 

"Nikolas," the dark-haired man repeated. He stood in the shadow, allowing no real look at his face. 

Fear touched him for a moment, but he forced the feeling aside. He had promised Duncan MacLeod that he wouldn't run this time. He would know for certain who this man was before this little visit was over. 

He tossed the covers aside, his bare feet whispering across the cold floor as he walked towards the man. "Father?" 

"Hello, Nikolas," he replied, stepping into the moonlight and fully exposing his face for the first time. 

Cassadine gasped in shock, unable to take his eyes off the face he knew to he his father's. Was it possible? He had thought his Uncle Stefan dead once, but that had been a lie. Was his father's death a lie, too? Or was he merely hallucinating? 

"Is this a dream?" he asked. "Or are you real?" 

"I am real," Stavros Cassadine decreed, holding his arms open wide. "And very much alive, my son." 

"Where have you been? Why did you--" 

Stavros cut him off by holding a hand up to ward off his questions. "All in due time, son. I know this has been a shock to you, but my secret must be kept. From everyone. Including my brother, Stefan. Especially him." 

"And Helena?" he questioned. "Does she know?" 

"I will deal with my mother in my time," Stavros assured. "Until then, I need you to stay here, Nikolas. And trust no one. Not Dr. Collins. Not your mother. Certainly not Stefan. Trust no one but me. I have a plan for us. There is a power out there that not even you can comprehend just yet. When it is time, we will rule the world together. Father and son." 

Nikolas narrowed his eyes at that decree. Ah, yes, the infamous Cassadine plan to rule it all. It had been the death of too many of his ancestors, and he'd be damned if he would follow in their footsteps. 

"You doubt me," Stavros realized, frowning in dismay. "You won't in a short time. You will see soon enough. I have to go now, but I want your assurance that you will trust only me." 

"Father," Nikolas sighed. Reaching out, he caught the front of the man's shirt and pulled him forward to embrace him. 

Stavros seemed shocked by the gesture for a moment, but then returned the hug. Lightly caressing his son's black hair, he whispered, "I have missed you so." 

The Prince pulled away then, stating, "You had better go before someone sees you." 

Nodding, the man offered him a reassuring smile before moving to the door. He knocked once, and the guard opened the door for him, allowing his exit. 

Nikolas watched him leave, his anger growing. He looked down at his balled fist, slowly opening his hand to reveal the button he had pulled from his "father's" shirt only a moment ago. Solid, irrefutable proof that he had not been alone in this room tonight. He didn't imagine ghosts or hallucinations left buttons behind. His mother was right. He was not insane. This was all one of Helena's schemes. 

With a glare at the door where his "guard"--the man hired to ensure no one got in or out of his room--still stood. So Helena had gotten to the hired help. That didn't surprise him. And she apparently had heard of his visits from MacLeod. 

"Trust no one," he repeated with venom. "Don't worry, _Father._ I won't. Least of all you." 

* * *

**Chapter 12**

"It's more than a bit chilly this morning," Methos commented, glancing up and down the empty docks. "Why did Mrs. Spencer ask us to meet her here? Why not our nice, heated hotel room?" 

"I'm sure she has her reasons," Duncan MacLeod replied, his eyes wandering over the water and the island that lay off the coast. An enormous mansion stood there. He had heard rumors in his short time in Port Charles that the Prince's uncle lived there. 

He turned to Joe Dawson and was about to say something when a voice interrupted him: 

"Mac?" 

Turning in surprise, he watched as Chloe Morgan jogged in his direction. She stopped before him, but her look was not one of complete surprise. 

"Hello, Chloe," he acknowledged. 

She nodded to both Methos and Joe before replying. "I had heard rumors of a man named MacLeod and his friends Pierson and Joe that were taking on Helena Cassadine. Duncan, what are you doing?" 

"I'm just trying to help," he stated, vaguely. 

"Helena is dangerous. Besides, Nikolas' friends and family are doing all they can." She seemed to hesitate a moment, but then asked, "Are you doing this because of our friendship? Aside from me, you know no one else in Port Charles." 

"Chloe," he sighed, but stopped when he saw Laura Spencer walking towards them with a distinguished looking man by her side. Chloe turned to see who he was looking at, and stilled at the sight of the pair. For a moment, MacLeod thought he saw hurt and jealousy in her face. 

"Hello, Chloe," the man spoke to her first. 

"Stefan," she responded, keeping her voice distant. 

"Excuse me, Duncan, but what is she doing here?" Laura demanded. "She has no business being involved with my son's issues." 

MacLeod glanced back and forth between the two women before admitting, "Chloe is an old friend of mine." 

The news seemed to stun Laura for a moment, but she regained her composure and asked, "Is _she_ the old friend that asked for you help?" 

"Did you do that, Chloe?" Stefan asked, looking touched. 

Before the conversation got off the subject, Duncan extended his hand to the man and introduced himself. "You must be Stefan Cassadine. I'm Duncan MacLeod." 

Stefan shook the other man's hand, stating, "Laura was just telling me about you. She seems to believe that you have a foolproof plan to help my nephew." 

"I wouldn't say 'foolproof'," Methos muttered, only to receive a silencing glare from Joe. 

"I think it will work, if everyone cooperates," Duncan assured. "Here's what I need you to do, Mr. Cassadine. . ." 

* * *

From her well-hidden spot at the top of the stairs, Gia Campbell listened closely as the group made their plans for Nikolas. _Her_ Nikolas. His family had taken great pains to assure her of his well being, but not to allow her to get too involved in this ordeal. Partly because they feared for her safety, but also because Nikolas had requested it. She had managed to wrangle that much information from his brother Lucky. Nikolas didn't want her in the Cassadine's line of fire, Lucky had repeated. 

Well, she had plans of her own. They would not exclude her any longer, she quietly vowed as she watched the group disperse and go their separate ways. She loved Nikolas as much as they did. And she would help him, with or without their blessing. 

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Helena Cassadine stared at the reflection in the mirror. Even at her age, she was still a beautiful woman. She was a lady of class. Or, at least, on the outside she was. She had been wed to royalty. She had given birth to men of stature and importance. Her sons were Princes. 

A movement in the mirror drew her attention and she turned, smiling radiantly as she greeted, "Stavros, my darling, darling son." 

"Hello, Mother," he smiled in greeting, taking her hands and bringing them to his lips for a kiss. 

"I was starting to worry. How did your visit go with Nikolas last night? Did you have any trouble getting into his room?" she inquired. 

"No. The guard you bribed was more than helpful, as he has been for several weeks. I believe I got through to my son last night, Mother," he confided. "He will not be so quick to trust the ones who have been visiting him. He. . .he even hugged me before I left." 

"Oh, my darling, you don't know how happy that makes me," she assured. Holding him at arms distance, she allowed herself a good look at him. It was nearly impossible to believe. . .her Stavros, alive! She had been so stunned when he had appeared to her several months ago. "My dear, you have lost a button off of your shirt. Let Mommie fix that for you." 

"It will be fine, Mother," he assured, noticing the missing button for the first time. "I wouldn't mind some refreshments, however." 

"Of course! How rude of me. I'll have Cook prepare you something," she assured. 

Stavros watched her leave the room, his dark eyes brooding with an unnamed emotion. He had laid in wait for this plan for years. Since the night Luke Spencer had "killed" him. He had waited and planned and practiced perfect patience. Finally, his brother Stefan had given him the opportunity he was longing for. Stefan's decision to fake his own death had worked only to his advantage. It had distanced his hovering brother from Nikolas Cassadine. Yes, he would have Nikolas under his spell soon. He was already halfway there. Nikolas would go back to Greece with him. But, before that, he would see to Helena and Stefan. 

They had betrayed him. And, for that, they would both die. Nikolas would live with him until he turned twenty-five, then he would have the Prince sign over the Cassadine Empire to him. The Empire that should have been his all along. 

Unfortunately, Nikolas would have a terrible accident afterwards. After all, wasn't he a betrayal, too? He would have it all then. 

Yes, it was a perfect plan. He just had to rid himself of that pesky Immortal Duncan MacLeod. 

Helena re-entered the room then, and he poured her a glass of wine into a crystal glass. He watched as she drunk from it. Yes, his mother was still a beautiful woman on the outside, but her heart was black. And her mind was as fragile as the crystal she held in her hand. 

Pouring his own glass, he raised it to her in a silent toast. She returned the gesture, having no idea she was toasting to her own demise. And that of her beloved grandson, Nikolas Cassadine. 

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Duncan MacLeod felt the presence of the Immortal the second he pulled into the motel parking lot and stepped from his rental car. Methos had gone off in search of some "decent food". Joe had volunteered to see Laura to her office, and he had returned to the hotel alone. 

Reaching inside of his long coat, he securely gripped the handle of his sword. The sword was over centuries old, and it had safely seen him through many a battle with his own. He cautiously made his way to his hotel room. The door was slightly ajar, and he entered slowly, his reflexes ready for battle. 

"Methos?" he called, only to be greeted by the sound of the shower running. 

He closed the door behind him, relaxing a bit. "That was a quick trip. Did you bring anything for me?" 

"Just my beautiful self," a sexy voice purred. 

Startled, he turned and smiled at the sight Amanda made, soaking wet, wearing only a towel, and standing in the doorway to the bathroom. She slowly strolled in his direction, wrapping her wet arms around his neck and pulling his head down for a lingering kiss. 

"Why, Mac," she purred suggestively, "is that your sword, or are you just happy to see me?" 

He laughed at her indecent smile. Leave it to Amanda to always make him smile. With a groan of frustration, he confided, "Methos will be back soon. So will Joe." 

"Then we'll lock the door," she proclaimed, dropping her towel. 

Oh, yes, leave it to Amanda. 

* * *

MacLeod lay sated and surprisingly comfortable in the lumpy bed, watching as a now fully clothed Amanda angrily paced through the room. 

"You brought me here for this?" she all but shouted. "I was having images of you and me taking the Federal Reserve again. Or that mansion on the water I saw earlier. The Crown Jewels, maybe! But this?! MacLeod, I'm a thief, not a kidnapper." 

"Technically, it isn't kidnapping," he assured. "Nikolas' family knows what I am doing and, as we speak, his uncle is telling him of my plan." 

"What does it benefit me to break someone out of a mental ward?" she questioned, her beautiful brown eyes shooting him darts. 

"Well, he's rich. Maybe he will reward you," Mac suggested. "Besides, he is a Prince." 

She rolled her eyes at him, reminding, "I am a thousand years old. I have met Princes before! And, to be frank, I never really liked any of them. They were all rude to me." 

He chuckled then, suggesting, "Perhaps because you always tried to steal their jewels? If for no other reason, then do it for me. Do it because I'm asking." 

Amanda groaned inwardly. He was giving her his "puppy dog eyes" and, deep down, she knew she was lost. With a frustrated grunt, she conceded, "Oh, all right! Tell me what you need me to do." 

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Nikolas Cassadine was impatiently pacing his room, eager for the visit from his uncle. So much had changed between them. . .and so much was still the same. 

Occasionally, he still found himself thinking that Stefan was his father. His _real_ father. Hearing the results of the DNA test nearly two years ago had been devastating for them both. 

Stefan had loved his mother. And Laura had returned his feelings in some way. She had cared for Stefan far more than she had cared for Stavros, who had been little more than her captor. When Stavros "died", Helena had orchestrated for Stefan to believe that he was Nikolas' biological father. He had been allowed to believe it, too, for a time. Helena had enjoyed exposing the truth. 

The door opened then, and Stefan Cassadine entered. Nikolas motioned for him to come to the other side of the room. In a quiet voice, he held his hand out and asked, "What do you see?" 

"A button," Stefan replied, taking the button from his nephew's hand and eyeing it closely. 

"I knew it," he swore. "I took that off of 'Stavros' shirt last night." 

"You what?!" Stefan exclaimed, looking both shocked and concerned. 

"Lower your voice," the Prince insisted, glancing towards the door. "The guard outside is obviously being paid off by Helena. He let the man into my room last night. I am not insane, Uncle." 

"I know that," he assured, resting a hand against Nikolas' cheek. "I never believed that for a moment." 

He smiled in the face of his uncle's unwavering loyalty to him. Stefan loved him like a son. He had always known that. But learning that he was not Stefan's child had hurt their relationship. Technically, Stavros was the eldest son, the heir. Being the child of Stefan meant he was a bastard, with no legal claim to the Cassadine Empire. That had actually made him happy. He had never wanted to be the Cassadine Prince, but had grudgingly accepted his duties. 

Being an "illegitimate" Cassadine meant he was free of the family. But being Stavros' heir meant he was pulled back in. Forcing Stefan to work that much harder to protect him and his inheritance from Helena. That was why his uncle had made so many difficult choices over the years. 

He was startled to realize that he had forgiven Stefan for his decision to fake his death several months ago. It somehow seemed insignificant in the face of what he was about to admit. 

Taking a deep breath, he decreed, "Uncle, I think the man I have been seeing is Stavros." 

"That is impossible, Nikolas," he tried to assure. "We both know that your father is dead. I. . .I know you have been given reason to disbelieve people when they tell you of death in this family. But this is something that I would not lie to you about. Stavros is dead." 

"Well then he has a perfect double out there," Nikolas assured. "Because that man is identical to him." 

"MacLeod seems to think it is possible that Helena has hired a look-a-like," his uncle admitted. "But he has a plan. . ." 

* * *

**Chapter 16**

"Nikolas is quite certain that his guard is on Helena's payroll," Stefan Cassadine confided, sitting down at the dining table across from MacLeod. Laura had offered them full run of her house to finalize their plans for Nikolas' escape from Ferncliffe. Stefan, MacLeod, Dawson, Amanda, Methos, Laura, and Lucky Spencer were crowded around her dining room table, mapping out their strategy for that night. 

"Amanda can take care of the guard," Duncan assured. "Now, what I need from the rest of you is to make certain you are seen in public tonight. I don't want the cops snooping around asking questions of the family after Amanda and I get Nikolas out of Ferncliffe. I want the police to suspect that he managed to sneak out on his own." 

"Don't worry about the local cops," Lucky Spencer chuckled. "They are. . .shall we say, a bit impressionable. Right, Stefan?" 

Cassadine ignored the taunting reminder of his faked death and assured, "I will be seen having a business meeting at the Port Charles Grill with my new friend, Dr. Pierson." 

"And I have made a dinner arrangement in the name of Joe Dawson and Laura Spencer," Methos put in. Winking at Joe, he added, "My treat." 

Dawson seemed a bit embarrassed, but asked, "Is that agreeable with you, Laura?" 

"Yes," she replied, feeling herself blush at the knowing look the others seemed to be giving them. 

"And I will be seen in town tonight with my girlfriend, Elizabeth," Lucky assured. "We are having dinner with our friends Emily and Zander." 

"I suppose that leaves me as your alibi, Mac," Amanda purred. 

MacLeod added, "Yes, Amanda and I will be spending a romantic evening in my hotel room. As soon as room service is delivered, we will sneak out and be on our way to Ferncliffe. I will stand guard outside, and Amanda has already mapped out her strategy to get inside." 

"Did you guys hear that?" Lucky interrupted. "I thought I heard something outside." 

"So did I," Dawson added. 

"I'll go check it out," Spencer volunteered, standing from the table and moving to the back door. 

Amanda took the moment to relate, "Ferncliffe's security is a joke. I'll be in and out in a flash." 

Stefan reached into his pants pocket and tossed a set of keys on the table. "I rented a cabin in the mountains. In a different name, of course. Nikolas can stay there after we liberate him from--" 

"You're breaking Nikolas out of Ferncliffe!" a new voice exclaimed. 

MacLeod turned to see Lucky Spencer holding a young woman by the arm. He belatedly recognized her from the mental hospital. She was the girl trying so desperately to see the Prince. 

"Look who I found snooping outside," Lucky stated. 

"Gia!" Laura scolded in aghast. "You shouldn't be here! Nikolas explicitly said--" 

"To Hell with what Nikolas said!" Gia Campbell snapped back. "I care about him, too, Laura, and I am tired of being left out of the loop. Now you were talking about breaking him out of that psycho ward his grandmother put him in. What can I do to help?" 

"Stay out of it," Lucky insisted. 

She jerked her arm free of his hand, turning to Laura as she decreed, "You can fire me from _Deception_ for this if you want, because I don't care anymore! All I care about is Nikolas. I have honored your wishes and stayed away for as long as I can. Now I will help him with or without your blessing." 

"Hi." Amanda chose to intervene then. "Gia, right?" 

"Yeah? Who are you?" the young woman spoke rudely, eyeing the tall, glamorous lady. 

"I'm Amanda," she insisted, taking her arm and steering her towards the living room. "Let's go somewhere else and talk." 

"I don't even know you, lady." 

"Well, then that is a terrible loss, now isn't it?" Amanda smiled devilishly as she lead the girl away from the discussion. 

"Damn," Lucky swore. "She could blow the whole thing." 

"Amanda will neutralize her," Joe stated confidently. "I think there is something we need to discuss. A small detail, but. . .I think it is best that Nikolas not be left alone at the cabin. I imagine it has been a difficult few weeks for him. He should have a friendly face around him right now." 

"I agree," Laura nodded, touched by thoughtfulness for her son. 

"I volunteer," Lucky spoke up. "I'll stay with him." 

"No. It would be too obvious if you disappeared around the same time," MacLeod refuted. "I guess Amanda or myself could do it. Or you Adam." 

Methos glanced to the doorway where the two women had just exited, suggesting, "I have a better idea." 

* * *

"You're the model for _Deception,_ " Amanda was saying as she steered the protesting young woman to the couch and sit her down. 

"They can't do this to me," Gia protested. "They can't shut me out of his life like this. I was there for him for months when Stefan and even his own mother wasn't! They can't just ignore me now like I don't matter because--" 

"You're in love with him," Amanda realized, blurting her thoughts out loud. 

"No, I'm not," Gia readily defended herself, even though she knew her face betrayed her emotions. 

"Honey, I am a lot older and wiser than you think," the raven-haired beauty assured. "Why deny it?" 

"It's complicated." 

"Because he's a Prince? Haven't you ever read Cinderella?" 

"No. It's more than that," Gia laughed. "Nikolas would never hold a person's status in life against them. He's not that way. He's good and decent. He is so loyal and honest. It's like loving a blasted saint." 

Amanda's thoughts turned to Duncan MacLeod. "I can relate to that." 

"Well, I am no Saint. I mess up. And usually badly." 

Amanda laughed at her glum expression, assuring, "I'd wager that you haven't come near to the mistakes that I have made. You know, the day I first met Mac, I stole his purse." 

"MacLeod carried a purse?" she asked in disbelief. 

The other woman had to suppress the urge to kick herself. How could she explain to this girl that, several hundred years ago, _everyone_ carried a "purse". It was actually a small pouch for their money. 

"What I meant was, I stole his wallet and put it in my purse," she quickly covered. 

"What happened?" 

"He busted me," Amanda laughed at the centuries old memory. "And then he bought me a drink. You see, Gia, I am terribly imperfect. It wreaks havoc on my relationship with Duncan sometimes. He's such a noble, hardheaded Scot. But that is one of the things I love about him." 

"So why aren't you living happily ever after?" 

"It's. . .complicated," Amanda sighed. "But I do love him, in my own way. And he feels the same for me. We have our fun times together, and then we eventually part again." 

"Then you're what? His one-night stand?" Gia asked, then blushed at her own rudeness. "I'm sorry. That was so rude of me to ask." 

The Immortal smiled reassuringly at the girl before her. There was no way she could make Gia understand certain things. Like the fact that her "times with MacLeod" had lasted years, even decades, at a time. They had stolen Scottish artifacts together. Toured the circus circuit during the 1920's. She had even had a bank-robbing spree once during which she had dragged him along for the ride. Despite its pains and hardships, Immortal life did have its high points. Oh, the sights and experiences she had had in her thousand years. 

"You are so young," she finally settled on the explanation. "And you only live once, Gia. And I'm sorry to say that, in the grand scheme of things, that life will be very short. Even if you live to be a hundred, there will still be so many things you never see or do. But, you're lucky, because you have the opportunity to have a great, consuming love. You get to grow old with someone. Have beautiful children and watch them grow. You get to spoil grandchildren. And sit on the back porch in your rocking chair and hold hands with a grumpy old man. Don't you want that man to be Nikolas Cassadine?" 

"Yes," she replied, touched by the sadness in Amanda's words. Amanda was acting as if she would never do those things. 

Blinking back tears that were rare for her, she forced a smile at the young girl. No, Gia Campbell would never know how lucky she was in that respect. Amanda had watched too many men she loved grow old without her and die. She would bury them alone, and then force herself to move on and continue her life. 

"Then promise me something," she requested. "Promise me that you will tell Nikolas how you feel." 

"If I ever see him again," she stated glumly. 

"You will," she assured. "Probably sooner than you think. And when you do, you will tell him that you love him?" 

"Yes," Gia assured, feeling encouraged. "I will tell him." 

* * *

**Chapter 17**

The vent cover over his air conditioning burst open unexpectedly, nearly startling Nikolas Cassadine to death. Oh, he knew MacLeod's friend was coming for him tonight, but it still took him by surprise. 

In amused awe, he watched as a beautiful woman, clad in a tight black jumpsuit, slide from the air conditioning vent and landing as graceful as a cat before him. 

"Well," Amanda whipped the dust from her hands as she smiled brightly, "they didn't tell me you were such a handsome prince. Are you ready, Your Highness?" 

She did a splendid curtsy, and he laughed in spite of himself. Daring a glance at the tiny vent, he questioned, "I don't think I can fit." 

Amanda ran a shamelessly appreciative eye up and down his physique. He wore the Ferncliffe standard dress of baggy pants and slippers, but he had tossed the shirt in favor of a muscle T-shirt. Smiling in admiration, she decreed, "No. I doubt you could get those nice, board shoulders of yours through there. Of course, I could be wrong. Big things have been known to fit in tight spaces before." 

Nikolas felt a helpless grin touch his lips. Not only was she beautiful and apparently talented, but a shameless flirt as well. 

"Of course, I was referring to your big shoulders and the tight vent." 

"Of course," he acknowledged. "How do we get out of here?" 

"Well, the door, of course," Amanda stated the obvious. 

"The guard is out there," he reminded. 

"Hmmm, yes, I know," she fumbled through the room, finally picking up the metal cover from the dinner tray left behind and smashing it loudly against the floor. 

"Mr. Cassadine?" the guard tried to peek through the tiny window in the door. "Is something wrong?" 

When he received no reply, the guard opened the door and eased in. He grunted in surprise when the fist connected with his jaw, falling unconscious at the feet of the Prince. "Take that back to my grandmother," he hissed. 

"Nice right," Amanda complimented, purposely squeezing the muscles of his upper arms. "You must work out." 

"There isn't much else to do around here," he grumbled, snatching his shirt from the end of the bed and tugging it on. 

"Come on, Your Highness. Freedom awaits," Amanda announced, taking his hand and leading him into the dark hallway. She had disabled certain security cameras on her way in, and she carefully maneuvered them down the halls and to the front door. 

Nikolas Cassadine burst through and into the cold night air, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling. It was the first breath of fresh air he had had in weeks. Yes, freedom was waiting for him. And, he prayed, so was Gia Campbell. 

* * *

**Chapter 18**

From his hiding place on the grounds surrounding Ferncliffe, MacLeod irritably checked his watched for the third time. Amanda was five minutes behind schedule. She should have been here by now. 

The sensations that were the presence of another Immortal surrounded him, touching his very soul. He turned in anticipation of meeting Amanda, but barely sidestepped the sword aimed for his head. 

Duncan swiftly withdrew his own sword, raising the blade to defend himself against his attacker. The man was dressed all in black, a dark hat pulled low, hiding his face. 

Taking a step back, he slowly circled the aggressor as he decreed, "I am Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod." 

"Stavros Cassadine," he bowed gallantly. "You should have stayed out of my affairs." 

"I never took orders well," Duncan assured, taking the advantage to attack when Cassadine lowered his sword. 

Stavros matched his movements, but quickly realized he was losing ground. The presence of another Immortal distracted them both, and he took the opening to attack, plunging his sword deeply into MacLeod's abdomen. Duncan groaned in surprise and pain, falling to his knees. 

Cassadine glanced up to see a woman--a fellow Immortal--step from the bushes, a sword in her hand. "You can't interfere," he reminded her of the Rules they survived by. 

"You kill him," Amanda vowed, "and I am next." 

He hesitated then. If he took the head of Duncan MacLeod, then he would be too weak from the Quickening to fight her. He would surely die shortly after MacLeod. With a curse, he withdrew his sword and disappeared into the woods. 

"Mac," a concerned Amanda rushed to his side, gently lying him back on the ground. She pushed his shirt up to reveal the gruesome wound to his stomach. 

"How bad is it?" he asked through ashen lips. 

"I think you're dying," she stated matter-of-factly. 

"Oh, not again," he grumbled. 

"Amanda?" a new voice questioned, as the bushes rustled to reveal Nikolas Cassadine. 

"I told you to stay behind and wait for me," she snapped, moving to hide MacLeod's "dead" body from him. But she was too late, she realized with an inward groan as he pushed past her to kneel beside Duncan. 

"Oh my God, what happened?" he asked, trying to put pressure on the gruesome wound that was still seeping blood. 

"Come on, Nikolas, we have to go," she insisted, trying to take his arm and pull him away. 

He pressed his fingers to the base of MacLeod's throat, whispering softly, "He's dead. Oh, God, no. What happened? Did Helena do this? Because if she did--" 

"Let's go," she insistently repeated. 

"You can't leave him here like this!" Nikolas all but shouted. 

MacLeod's eyes popped open then, and he drew a deep, loud breath. Startled, Nikolas pulled away from him, watching in disbelief as the "dead" man seemed to revive himself right before his eyes. His dark eyes went to the wound on MacLeod's abdomen, only to find that it was no longer there. His shirt was still torn and bloody, but the huge gash was gone. 

"He saw," Amanda stated simply, helping Duncan stand. 

"Look," he started, only to have the Prince jerk away from him. 

"You were dead," Cassadine insisted. "You were dead. And. . .this is crazy. It doesn't make any sense." 

"Let's go," Amanda ordered. 

"I'm not going anywhere with you two," Nikolas snapped. "Not until you tell me what the Hell is going on here!" 

Duncan sighed, agreeing, "I'll tell you everything. But not here. Let's go somewhere else." 

* * *

**Chapter 19**

The Port Charles Park was completely vacant so late at night. Nikolas Cassadine seemed to know his way around, and the others followed him through the dark shadows. 

Duncan waited until he had claimed a seat on a narrow bench before he began, "My name is Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod. And I am Immortal. I was born four hundred years ago in the Highlands of Scotland. Ian MacLeod was the chief of the Clan MacLeod. The night his wife gave birth, a child was found abandoned. That child was me. The labor was hard and difficult, and Ian's son died. So when he heard of the foundling, he adopted him. He adopted me. He raised me to be a MacLeod." 

The Highlander sighed, sitting down on the bench beside the much younger man. "When I was growing up, there were tales in my Clan of a man years before me named Connor MacLeod. He was supposedly killed in battle and then miraculously revived. I thought it was an old wives tale meant to scare children. Until the day it happened to me. I was fighting beside my father in a Clan war when I was mortally wounded. My father took me back to the clan, where I 'died'. Only I was revived. Everyone thought it was the work of Satan. They thought I was a demon, and I was banished. A few years later, I was found by Connor MacLeod himself. He taught me who and what I was. He taught me how to survive as an Immortal." 

Nikolas laughed at that, rolling his eyes as he turned to Amanda, "You don't believe this nonsense do you?" 

"Yes," she sighed. "Because I am one, too. I lived in England during the Plague. I was caught stealing food and executed. Like Mac, another Immortal found me and taught me the Game." 

"The what?" 

"The Game," MacLeod acknowledged. "Immortals have a purpose. We fight for the right to rule the universe. We fight to the death for that honor. The only way an Immortal can die is if his head is severed from his body. The victor claims the power of the one he killed. That is called the Quickening. The man that you say resembles your father is an Immortal, too. He stabbed me with his sword right before you arrived." 

"You must think I really am insane if you expect me to believe this," Cassadine angrily snapped. "You were using some type of Hollywood make-up or special effects or--" 

"Show him," Amanda insisted, reaching into her coat and retrieving a dagger. 

Duncan accepted it. He held his hand out to the Prince and then ran the dagger deeply across the palm of his hand. 

"What are you doing?!" Nikolas exclaimed, watching as he cut a deep gash into his flesh. He then watched in awed disbelief as the wound healed itself right before his eyes. Hesitantly reaching out, he wiped the blood away to reveal. . .nothing. Not a scratch or a scar or even a sign that he had just been cut. "This is real. You really are. . ." 

"Yes," Duncan assured. "I once lived in Russia. I was friends with your ancestors, Alexi and Gretchen Cassadine. Alexi saved me from being beheaded once by an overzealous rioter. And I helped him escape the Revolution and settle in Greece. It was out of loyalty to that friendship that I can here to Port Charles to help you." 

Nikolas stood then, running a hand through his black hair. "Do. . .do you have any idea how this sounds to me?" 

MacLeod smiled then, admitting, "I can only imagine. You probably feel the same way I did when I first realized what I was." 

"It is shocking, I know," Amanda intervened, checking her watch. "But we really do have to get you to the cabin your uncle instructed us to go to. We can't have anyone see you." 

"Amanda's right," Duncan agreed, standing to his feet. "We can talk about this more on the drive to the cabin." 

Cassadine nodded reluctantly, asking, "Mac. . .the man that. . .killed you tonight. The other Immortal. Is there a chance he really is my father? Is he Stavros Cassadine?" 

"I don't know," he sighed. "But I intend to find out." 

* * *

**Chapter 20**

Methos was pacing the front porch of the mountain cabin, obvious unease in his posture. He sighed in relief when the car pulled into the yard, MacLeod, Amanda, and the kid stepping out. 

"It's about bloody time," he grumbled, bounding down the doorsteps and moving to meet them. "What took you so long? I was starting to worry." 

"We had some unforeseen complications," Amanda replied, glancing at the Prince. "But all is well now." 

"How are you Nikolas?" Methos asked. 

"A bit cold," he admitted with a smile, pulling the thin shirt closer around him. Glancing at MacLeod, he asked, "Does he know?" 

"He's one of us," Duncan replied. "It is cold out here, though. Go on inside. We have some things to discuss." 

"You told him!" Methos exploded when Cassadine was out of earshot. 

"We didn't have much of a choice. Our Immortal friend dropped by," MacLeod related. 

"Ah, so he saw the light show, eh?" 

"No. He saw me come back to life after the man ran me through with his sword." 

"You know, it is cold out here," Amanda complained. "Let's go inside." 

"Let's not," Methos disagreed. "In fact, let's just go back to town. I already told the Prince's keeper that is what we would do the minute you dropped him off." 

A knowing smile spread across the face of Amanda as she glanced toward the cabin, accusing, "You knew! You arranged this from the start. And you orchestrated Joe and Laura spending the evening together. Methos, deep down, you are a hopeless romantic, aren't you?" 

"The kids have a crush," he tried to make light of his cupid antics. "Besides, there is nothing worse than two teens mooning after one another." 

"You have a heart of gold," Amanda exclaimed as he walked past her towards the car. 

Chuckling, MacLeod fell into step behind them. Indeed, Methos did have his moments. 

* * *

**Chapter 21**

Nikolas Cassadine entered the cottage and moved toward the roaring fire. He stood for a second, warming his hands. He wasn't certain what to make of tonight. Or of Duncan MacLeod. The man certainly spun a vivid tale. If he could believe it, that was. 

He picked up the fire poker and stirred the fire, making it burn hotter. He set the poker down with a loud clang. 

"Dr. Pierson?" a voice called, stunning him in his tracks. He turned slowly to see Gia Campbell enter the living room. 

"Have you heard anything yet--" she broke off then, tears filling her eyes at the sight of her beloved Prince standing in front of the fire. He looked like something from a fairy tale. She wasn't even certain if he was real or not. Taking a hesitant step toward him, she whispered, "Nikolas?" 

"Gia." 

The soft sound of him sighing her name broke her from the spell. Racing across the room, she threw herself into his open arms. 

"I can't believe it's you," he whispered against the curve of her neck. "What are you doing here?" 

"It was Dr. Pierson's idea," she replied, pulling back enough to see his face. She rested a hand against his cheek. "He thought you shouldn't be left alone." 

He looked down into her beautiful dark eyes, no longer hearing her words, just seeing her. The light from the fire sprayed across her features, he raised a hand to lightly trace her beautiful face. He lowered his mouth to hers, tentatively kissing her. He gave her every opportunity to pull away. But she didn't. Instead, she slid her hand into the back of his hair and pulled him closer. With a sigh, he abandoned all logic, and simply lost himself in their perfect, long overdue kiss. 

* * *

**Chapter 22**

Gia nervously rearranged the plates on the coffee table for the third time. She had heard the shower cut off a few minutes ago. Nikolas had said very little to her since the kiss. She smiled helplessly at the memory, feeling herself grow warm. But there was still an uncertainly there. 

He had pulled away from her rather abruptly. She had been awkward afterwards, as well. She had lamely announced that she had brought him a change of clothes in case he wanted them. He had then excused himself to take a shower. 

The door to the bathroom opened then, and Nikolas Cassadine stepped out. He had changed into dark pants and a blue sweater. She loved that color on him. His hair was wet from his shower, and he had pushed it back from his face. 

He offered her a hesitant smile, stating, "Thank you for bringing me some of my own things." 

"I figured you would appreciate them," she stated, nervously indicating to the coffee table. "I thought you might be hungry." 

"I'm starving," he admitted, sitting down on the carpeted floor and reaching for the pizza. Taking a bite, he sighed, "Delicious." 

"It's your favorite," she reminded, taking her own seat. She had stocked the freezer with all of his favorites, including his beloved frozen pizzas. 

"I was craving one of these so badly," he laughed. "I haven't had one in--" 

"Three weeks," Gia put in, sounding a bit sad. She had counted the days. It had been three weeks since Helena had forced him into Ferncliffe. 

"Seems more like three years," he admitted, studying her from lowered lashes. It seemed impossible to believe sometimes. His father could be alive. His grandmother was plotting his destruction. He had just kissed the woman he loved less than half an hour ago, and now he was discussing frozen pizza. 

With a weary sigh, he lay the uneaten half of his slice of pizza on the plate, having suddenly lost his appetite. "Gia," he finally said after a long pause, "I think we need to talk about that kiss." 

She took a nervous sip of her soda, a feeling of dread settling over her. She knew this was coming, so she might as well let him off easily. "Listen, you don't have to explain anything to me. I know that it has been a rough few weeks for you, and you just overreacted when you saw me." 

"You think I overreacted?" he inquired. 

"Nikolas, we have been friends for a while now and--" 

"And that's all you want from me?" he interrupted. "Friendship?" 

She hesitated visibly then. Was he was asking her for confirmation that they were "just friends" because that was all he could give her now? She had promised Amanda she would tell him the truth about her feelings for him. But she risked losing him if she told him that she loved him. 

Finally, she settled on the easy way out, asking, "What do you want?" 

"I can tell you I want more than friendship from you," he gambled on the truth. 

"You. . .what?" 

"I want to be more than your friend," he repeated. 

"I love you," she stunned herself with the proclamation. He looked as taken back as she felt. Suddenly embarrassed, she stammered, "I know that is not what you expected and it's probably too soon and--" 

He silenced her with a kiss. She sighed against the gentle feel of his lips, leaning into him for support. He reluctantly pulled away, pressing his lips to her forehead as he whispered back, "I love you, too, sweetheart. I have for so long." 

"Nikolas," she tenderly sighed his name, feeling the tears slip from her eyes. He wiped them away with a gentle hand. She allowed her gaze to wander lovingly over his handsome face, noting for the first time the weariness in his face. The exhaustion she saw there concerned her. "You look tired. Maybe you should get some rest." 

"I am exhausted," he reluctantly admitted. "But I would rather stay with you." 

Gia felt herself blush as she admitted, "There's only one bedroom. Dr. Pierson's doings, I think." 

Nikolas bit back a smile, assuring, "I'll sleep on the couch. I don't mind." 

"But I do," she refuted, standing and holding her hand out to him. "I don't want to be alone tonight, Nikolas. Not tonight. Not any other night. Stay with me." 

He was taken back by her request, but he also saw an uncertainty in her eyes. He stood also, taking her hands in his as he offered, "We don't have to take it too far. We can just hold one another tonight, if that is what you want." 

His generosity touched her. Cupping his face, she replied, "I nearly lost you a few weeks ago. I don't want to take that chance again. I don't want anymore wasted opportunities between us. It's. . .it's just that. . ." 

"Just what, sweetheart?" 

"I. . .I've never. . .I mean, this is my first time," she admitted, feeling like she would die of mortification. 

He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her eyes to his meet his own. The emotion that lay in their dark depths stunned her. "I love you," he reminded. 

All her worries and fears vanished in that moment. She was with Nikolas Cassadine, her Prince. Everything would be perfect. Flashing him her most dazzling smile, she suggested, "We will have to thank Dr. Pierson, won't we?" 

She yelped in surprise when he scooped her into his arms, kissing her soundly. "Pierson is the last thing on my mind right now." 

Her musical laughter filled the air as he carried her to the bedroom. 

* * *

**Chapter 23**

"I'm sorry the phone woke you," Nikolas apologized, hanging up the receiver and snuggled back under the covers with his beautiful lady. 

Gia curled up against him, resting her cheek against the steady beat of his heart. She was ridiculously happy, and couldn't control the smile that seemed permanently glued to her face. "It's fine," she assured, finally taking note of the time. It was well after 9:00 am. "Who was that?" 

He lightly traced the curve of her spine with his fingertips, answering, "My mother. She just wanted to check in with us and make sure we were doing okay. I told her you were taking very good care of me." 

She laughed at the husky tone his voice took, turning her face up to his for a lingering kiss. 

"Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly. "I mean, with us." 

"I couldn't be happier, Nikolas," she assured, meaning every word. 

"Neither could I," he admitted. "Are you hungry? I can make breakfast while you get a shower." 

"I'd rather you join me in the shower," she suggested with a wicked smile. He grinned as well, accepting her invitation with a sound kiss. 

* * *

**Chapter 24**

"How is Nikolas doing?" Duncan MacLeod asked as Laura hung up the phone and turned to him and Joe. They were sitting at the table, both sipping a steaming cup of coffee she had prepared for them. 

"He sounded great," she confided, her smile beaming. "Better than he has sounded in a long time." 

"That's wonderful, Laura," Joe Dawson assured. "What did the police say when they came by earlier?" 

"Exactly what you hoped," she related. "Commissioner Scorpio believes that Nikolas escaped on his own. Hopefully, Helena and her cohorts think the same." 

MacLeod stood then, reaching for his coat as he announced, "Speaking of Helena Cassadine, I think it is past time for me to pay her a visit." 

* * *

**Chapter 25**

Helena Cassadine fondly caressed the antique clock that sat on her mantle. It had been in her late husband's family for ages. Now it, like so many of the Cassadine heirlooms, belonged to her. She kept them here, in her own world. 

"A Scotsman gave that to Alexi Cassadine shortly before the Revolution," a voice startled her. 

Whirling around, she warily eyed the dark man that stood before her. She had a suspicion that he was the one Stavros had warned her of. The one called MacLeod. 

"And how would you know that, Mr. MacLeod?" she challenged. 

If he was surprised that she knew him, he didn't show it. Instead, he answered, "Legend has it, Alexi had a Scottish friend that helped him escape Russia and make it safely to Greece." 

"Yes. A man mentioned in the journals of his wife Gretchen. A man known only as 'Mac'," she finished. "Interesting, the similarities in names between yours and his." 

"I suppose stranger things have happened," Duncan replied. "Like having your two sons return from the dead both in the same year." 

"I haven't a clue what you are referring to," she feigned perfect innocence. "Stefan, perhaps? Why, he chose to do that dastardly ploy to fake his death. Poor Nikolas. It drove my grandson to madness." 

"And here I thought it was the return of Stavros that enabled you to commit Nikolas." 

"My beloved son Stavros is dead," she continued her ploy. 

"Let's not play games with one another, Mrs. Cassadine," he insisted. "I know that Stavros really is alive. . .and I know he is not your son. Not by birth, anyhow." 

In that moment, her perfect composure slipped. Her face paled and looked stricken. Fear flashed in her eyes, along with the evil that lay just under her smooth surface. 

"Yes," Duncan nodded, having the upper hand. "I know. You could say that Stavros and I are cut from the same cloth, so to speak. I know all of his dirty little secrets, and yours. Stavros is no more your child than Nikolas is his." 

"I chose him," she spat venomously. "Just like I chose Nikolas. They are my Princes, and I will not allow anyone to destroy that. Least of all you." 

"How did it happen?" MacLeod continued as if he had never been interrupted. "Did your own child die? Was there even a child?" 

"My son was sickly," she recalled, her eyes distant and sad at the memory. "He was weak and unhealthy. Certainly not meant to be a Cassadine heir. I couldn't let my beloved Mikkos know I had given birth to such a sad creature. He died that night. And I replaced him with an orphaned child one of the servants found. It was like the will of God. He Himself placed that child for me to have. My Stavros. My Dark Prince. The heir of my choosing!" 

"And then you had Stefan," he added. "The true blood of your husband. The true heir. He was a threat to all you had planned, wasn't he? That was why you hated him. That was why you plotted against him for all those years." 

"He could have been the destruction to the future of Stavros," she hissed in hatred. "He took Stavros' unfaithful wife, Laura, to bed!" 

"And Stefan gave her the one thing Stavros couldn't--a child. Nikolas. You toyed with the DNA test, didn't you?" he accused. 

"You will never prove that." 

"I don't have to because I know something you do not. Stavros cannot have children," Duncan stated sadly, not bothering to add that _no_ Immortal could have a child. It was one of the curses of Immortality. "I know that, and so does he." 

Fear seemed to touch her eyes at his chilling words. "He can't know that," she whispered past pale lips. "I planned so hard so that he would never know. . .it would destroy him to know Nikolas is not his. . .and he would. . ." 

"He would what?" MacLeod demanded when her voice trailed off. "He would hurt Nikolas?" 

"He wouldn't," she tried to convince herself, shaking her head in denial. "He would never. . .Oh, dear God, he knows where Nikolas is." 

"What?!" he demanded, crossing the distance between them and roughly grabbing her by the upper arms. "How could be know?" 

"I suspected Stefan would try to help Nikolas escape Ferncliffe, so I had someone watch him around the clock. He followed you and my grandson to the cabin last night. And I told Stavros where they were--" 

MacLeod released her abruptly. He raced from the room, frantically praying he made it to the cabin in time. 

* * *

**Chapter 26**

Nikolas gingerly carried several of the fragile eggs from the refrigerator to the counter next to the stove. After his shower with Gia, he was famished. He had reluctantly left her to finish dressing while he cooked them some breakfast. 

"Gia, how do you want your eggs?" he called loudly, but received no answer. "Gia?!" 

He paused, listening for her reply, but getting none. Lying the eggs aside, he walked back towards the bedroom. He pushed the door open, and stilled in horror. 

Gia lay face down on the carpet, a small stream of blood oozing down the side of her cheek. 

"Gia," he whispered frantically, racing to her side and tentatively rolling her over. She had a large bump on the back of her head that was seeping blood. 

He heard the noise from behind him a split second before he felt the cold steel of a blade being pressed to his throat. Turning slowly, he met the unforgiving eyes of Stavros Cassadine. 

* * *

**Chapter 27**

"What did you do to Gia?" Nikolas Cassadine demanded, refusing to back down as he was none too gently escorted to the living room. He glanced back towards the bedroom, where Gia still lay unconscious. 

Stavros turned him around so they stood eye to eye, assuring, "Don't worry. Your whore will be fine, son." 

"Don't call me that," he hissed in fury. "You are the last person I would want as a father." 

He laughed at that, the sound tittering on the edge of madness. "You are so correct, and, sadly, you don't even know it." 

"What is that suppose to mean?" 

Stavros eyed the young man, taking in every detail about him. As far as morals went, he suspected that Nikolas would be considered one of the noble, honorable ones. So unlike the rest of the Cassadines. Perhaps he had inherited those qualities from his mother. Nikolas certainly wasn't like his grandfather Mikkos, who wanted to rule the world. That had been Stavros' dream for a time, too. But now that dream could become a reality. He was Immortal. He could truly have the power someday to rule. 

After his "death" at the hands of Luke Spencer, he had been found by one of his own. The man had taught him about Immortality. He had learned the Rules to play their Game. But he had learned other painful facts as well. 

Immortals could not have children. His wife had been unfaithful. Nikolas was not his son, after all. A harsh reality. Laura and Stefan had betrayed him. Even his mother had betrayed him, for she was the one who had kept the secret for so long. She had even toyed with a DNA test to make it appear that Nikolas was his. Still. . .that had worked to his advantage. All he had to do was keep the boy loyal to him until his twenty-fifth birthday, where he was to inherit his the Cassadine wealth and power. But if Nikolas were rendered mentally incapable of handling the trust, then it would be signed over to him. He would have the wealth and influence that was rightly his to begin with. 

He glanced back in the direction of the girl, wanting to assure himself she was no longer a threat. He drew the wrath of Nikolas when he did. 

"Leave her alone!" the Prince ordered. 

"Do you fear me?" he inquired, looking hurt. "Do you fear what I will do to you?" 

"No," Nikolas stated with confidence. "Because you need me. Whatever your plan is, you need me for it. Otherwise you would have never returned. You certainly wouldn't be keeping me alive." 

"You are a bright boy," he congratulated. "However, I don't need your friends." 

The threat only served to make him angrier. "You hurt my friends, and I will destroy you." 

Stavros laughed at that, proclaiming, "You don't have the power." 

"I know what you are," the Prince announced. "MacLeod told me." 

He seemed stunned by the revelation, admitting, "Then I suppose he told you everything? It broke my heart, Nikolas, to know you weren't mine." 

The news shocked him to the core, but he hastily hid his reaction, enticing, "I know. It was hard for me as well. I always wondered about you. What you would be like. Would we be friends. Would we like one another." 

"I wanted us to be," Stavros admitted, his guard slipping. Pain shimmered in his eyes, as well as a hint of insanity, as he continued, "I dreamed of us being a family. I wanted that so badly. You and I could have ruled the world. Side by side." 

His words broke off suddenly, and he seemed to tense, as if sensing something. He reached for the sword he had laid aside a moment ago. He gripped it firmly in his hand, turning as the door burst open to reveal Duncan MacLeod. 

"You know why I am here," MacLeod stated simply, producing his _katana._

Stavros dared a glance at Nikolas before suggesting, "Outside. I don't want my son to see what I do to you." Turning to the Prince, he stated, "I will be back soon. Then we can go to Greece. Things have changed Nikolas. You will see that." 

"Don't do this," he softly pleaded. 

"I have to. It's who we are. It's what we do," Cassadine stated simply. "Despite it all, I did love you, in my own way. And now I know, I could have never hurt you." 

"I know that," Nikolas stated honestly, glancing back and forth between the man who would have been his father and the silent, brooding Scotsman that was his friend. An ominous feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, and he swallowed back the tears in his throat as he stated, "Good-bye, Father. I loved you, too, despite it all." 

Stavros nodded, a sadness in his eyes as he lightly touched the Prince's face before turning and walking towards the back door. MacLeod followed him, pausing only a moment as he turned to Nikolas, an unreadable emotion in his face. 

The Prince released a sad sigh, facing the man who would either die tonight. . .or kill his would-be father. 

"Can't it just be over?" he asked, all though he already knew the answer. 

"It's like he said: it's what we do," Duncan stated, sad over the pain this night would cause for this good and decent young man. "You can't interfere." 

"I know," he whispered, watching as MacLeod nodded his understanding and walked away. 

Nikolas listened to the sound of his boot heels falling on the hard wood floor. He heard the back door open and shut, and felt the tightness fill his chest. Forcing his thoughts away from what was about to happen, he hurriedly moved back to the bedroom and knelt by Gia. 

He carefully gathered her in his arms and carried her back to the living room, lying her on the couch. She moaned and stirred slightly when he touched the bump on the back of her head. 

"Gia? Sweetheart?" he asked in concern. 

"Nikolas? My darling!" 

He froze at the sound of the voice. Turning slowly, he watched as Helena Cassadine stepped fully into the room. He stood then, rage and anger filling him. 

Tonight would be the night for showdowns. 

* * *

**Chapter 28**

"You don't have to die tonight, MacLeod," Stavros Cassadine assured, holding his sword with expert precision as he circled his challenger. "All you have to do is walk away." 

"And let you destroy the lives of so many?" he questioned. "I don't think so." 

"All I want is my son." 

"He's not your son," MacLeod reminded. 

"What does blood matter to us? We are Immortals. We have a power few can understand. But we are cursed with loneliness. We are cursed to suffer a long life without the simple happiness of holding our own children. We have few chances at happiness. Nikolas knows what I am now. He understands. In my heart, he is my son. I will raise him to rule beside me." 

"Does it even matter to you that he doesn't want that?" Duncan inquired. 

"He will learn," Stavros decreed, taking the opportunity to attack. 

He lunged at MacLeod with his sword, but the Scotsman was prepared for his assault and side stepped the blow. He swiftly raised his _katana,_ defending the attack with the strength of the ancient blade. 

Cassadine had been taught well, he realized, but not well enough. He was much too aggressive. MacLeod paced himself slowly, defending the assaults of the other man's sword, and patiently waiting his opportunity. Waiting for Stavros' first mistake. 

Frustrated, the other man charged aggressively, swing his weapon like a madman. 

"I'm sorry, Nikolas," he whispered as he swung his sword for the fatal blow, claiming the life of Stavros Cassadine. 

He fell to his knees and waited the Quickening. It came rapidly, filling the sky with flashes of light. It was around him, striking him, filling him with the power that had been Cassadine's. Just as quickly as it had began, it ended 

Exhausted, he drove the blade of his sword into the ground and rested his forehead against the hilt. He hated killing. He had never taken pleasure in it. 

A loud, unexpected sound drew him from his dark thoughts. Belatedly, he realized it was the sound of a gunshot. 

Forcing himself to his feet, he raced back to the cabin, filled with fear and worry for the occupants inside. 

* * *

**Chapter 29**

"What do you want, Grandmother?" Nikolas Cassadine demanded, standing from Gia's side and taking a step toward the woman. 

"I only wanted to check on you, my darling," Helena assured, cautiously glancing around the room. 

"Stavros is not here," he spoke, reading her thoughts. 

"Nikolas," she reached out to him, but he abruptly pulled away. "Please, don't be cross with me. Everything I did, I did for you." 

"Lying to me all my life was good for me?" he furiously demanded. "Making me believe Stavros was my real father was good for me? You know how much Stefan meant to me. You knew how badly I wanted to be his son! I hate you." 

"Please, don't say that," she employed. 

"Why not? It's true. I hate the sight of you. It repulses me," he whispered furiously, trembling with rage. 

"Nikolas?" a groggy voice called out. 

Forcing his attention back to Gia, he moved to her side and knelt, resting a gentle hand against her forehead. "I'm here, sweetie." 

She sat up, placing a hand to her pounding head. "Some one must have--" her voice broke off as an unexpected light filled the room. It was coming from outside. Lightening reflected in the glass window, and Nikolas stood slowly, his attention turning to the back door. 

It was the Quickening, he knew with a sick feeling. MacLeod had warned him of it. One of them was dead. 

Helena seemed to sense it, too, for she paled. Her elegant face turned to him, her eyes pleading for some type of reassurance. 

"It is over, Grandmother," he assured. 

"No! Not my Stavros!" she screamed hysterically. "How could you? How could you stand here and let that man kill my son?!" 

"Don't you dare blame this on Nikolas!" an irate Gia proclaimed, standing on wobbly legs and moving to face the older woman. "This is your doing. All of it. And now it is your fault." 

"No. It's yours," Helena argued, madness filling her eyes as well as intense hatred. Her hand disappeared into the pocket of her coat and produced a gun. She aimed it at the young woman standing before her, insisting, "This is your fault! You turned Nikolas against me. You!" 

"NO!" Nikolas screamed as she pulled the trigger, lunging for her. His hand brushed against her arm. It was a mild bump, but enough to knock her deadly aim off course. The bullet whizzed past Gia's head, narrowly missing her. 

Regaining his balance, Cassadine grabbed her wrist and roughly pried the weapon from her hands, knocking her to the floor in the process. He palmed the gun, staring at it for a moment before aiming it at her black heart. 

"This is the last time you hurt someone I love," he vowed, resting his finger against the trigger. 

"No! Please, Nikolas, don't do this!" a horrified Gia pleaded. 

"Nikolas. . .?" Helena questioned in disbelief. "You wouldn't. . .you couldn't. . ." 

The back door exploded open to reveal a worried Duncan MacLeod. He moved towards the Prince, carefully evaluating the situation. "It's over," he tried to assure him. "Give me the gun." 

A bitter laugh escaped him then, and he gripped the butt of the gun tighter. "You're wrong, Mac. It will never be over. At least not while she is alive. She will just keep on hurting everyone I love. She will continue manipulating and destroying. . .no, she has to be stopped. Tonight." 

"She has been stopped," MacLeod assured. "Don't do this, Nikolas. You have your life back. Don't destroy it now." 

"No one would blame me," he disagreed, keeping his lethal gaze trained to Helena. "The town would probably give me a medal for this." 

"You would blame yourself," the Scotsman insisted, realizing he was making no progress. "You couldn't live with yourself if you did this." 

"Listen to him, Nikolas," Gia pleaded. "If you kill her, then she wins. She wins because she would have changed you. She would have turned you into something you are not: a killer. You are not her. Don't throw away who you are. Who we are. I love you, Nikolas. Don't do this to me. To us." 

He turned to her then, seeing the love in her eyes. Belatedly, he realized that this woman was his saving grace. She was his redemption. Slowly, he handed the gun to MacLeod. Pausing only to turn to Helena with his chilling proclamation. "You are not worth it, Grandmother." 

He moved to stand before Gia, tears filling his eyes as the horror of what he had almost done occurred to him. He had almost crossed the line that separated him from being human. . .and being a true Cassadine. He had nearly destroyed himself tonight. He had nearly destroyed them and their future. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I am so, so sorry." 

Gia embraced him, holding him tightly as she soothed, "It's okay, darling. Everything will be okay now." 

MacLeod turned away from the private scene, not wanting to intrude. Indeed, it was finally over. 

* * *

**Chapter 30**

"There is no way to thank you properly," Laura Spencer stated, lightly squeezing the hand that held her own. She sit beside Joe Dawson, enjoying the first real peace she had felt in ages. "You and your friends have done so much for us." 

"We were glad to help," MacLeod assured from across the living room. 

"I can't believe Helena is being given a taste of her own medicine," Chloe Morgan laughed. "How ironic that she is now the one being committed to Ferncliffe." 

Gia laughed at that. "She will be if Dr. Pierson gets his way." 

"And he will," Duncan insisted. "Right about now, I imagine Adam getting her settled into her room." 

"But what if she they can't keep Helena in Ferncliffe?" Gia asked, worry over what might become of her Nikolas if his grandmother was set free. 

"Then we go to phase two," Duncan insisted, winking at Amanda. "The authorities receive the documents that Amanda, uh, 'liberated' from Helena's safe this morning." 

"There is enough there to keep her behind bars for years," Amanda put in, not bothering to mention that she had liberated a few things for herself. Besides, Nikolas had said this "Ice Princess" had been nothing but trouble for his family. They would hardly miss it. She glanced at her watch, sighing, "Speaking of Adam, we need to catch up with him, Mac. He has our plane tickets." 

Sadness touched Laura's face as she turned to Joe, admitting, "I wish you didn't have to leave." 

"I know," he agreed. "But I can visit. Or you can come to Paris. I'll give you the grand tour of the city." 

"I'd love that," she assured. Turning to Gia, she suggested, "How would my top model like her next photo shoot to be in Paris?" 

Gia laughed, admitting, "That would be wonderful. But only if Nikolas can come with us." 

"Speaking of which, I'd like to see him before I have to leave," Duncan stated, glancing around the room. "Where is he?" 

"He and Stefan went for a walk about half and hour ago. They should be back any minute now," Laura answered. 

"I think I will try to catch up with them," MacLeod stated, standing from the couch. 

Chloe Morgan followed his lead, stating, "I'll go with you. I need to talk to Stefan myself." 

Nodding his agreement, Duncan held the front door open for her as they exited the house of Laura Spencer. Stefan and Nikolas Cassadine rounded the corner at that moment, and they met at the center of the yard. 

There was a softness in Chloe's eyes as she gazed at Stefan, asking, "Can I speak with you in private?" 

"Certainly," he agreed, glancing towards Nikolas. 

"Go ahead," the Prince encouraged. 

"But you never told me what you wanted us to talk about," Stefan reminded. 

"It will keep," Nikolas assured. "I will come by Wyndemere later. We can talk then." 

Stefan nodded, briefly embracing Nikolas before turning and leaving with Chloe. Nikolas watched them walk away, smiling as Stefan reached for her hand. She accepted the gesture of affection without pulling away. He stated softly, "I hope she forgives you. . .Father." 

"You know," Duncan stated in surprise. 

"That Chloe is still in love with him?" he laughed. "Of course. It is very obvious. And he still loves her--" 

"That is not what I meant. And you know it," he lightly accused. "You know about Stefan being your father." 

"Yes," he sighed. "Stavros admitted it to me. How did you know?" 

"Immortals cannot have children," he explained simply. "I was going to tell you that. Why haven't you told Stefan the truth yet?" 

"I plan to. Soon," he promised. "But right now--I want to thank you for what you did for me, Mac. If there is ever anything I can do to repay you, please let me know." 

"There is something you can do," Duncan admitted. "You can keep my secret." 

Nikolas laughed then. "If I started telling tales of Immortals and dead men, I would be Helena's roommate in Ferncliffe. Seriously, you have my vow. Your secret is safe with me." 

"I know that," he assured. He reached into the pocket of his jacket then, retrieving a small ring box and holding it out to the Prince. 

Cassadine took it, curiously opening the box to reveal an emerald ring. The sunlight glistened off the exotic jewel that was set in a wide band of pure gold. 

"It belonged to your ancestor, Gretchen Cassadine," MacLeod explained at his questioning look. "She gave it to me. Now I am giving it back. I want you to have it, Nikolas. Gretchen was. . .special to me. Maybe you should give it to someone who is special to you." 

A smile touched the lips of the Prince, and he turned his attention to the house as the door opened and Gia Campbell stepped onto the porch. He beckoned her with a nod, and she moved to his side. 

"What are you two talking about?" she teased, sliding an arm around his waist. 

"Duncan was giving me advice on jewelry," he stated smoothly, capturing her hand and sliding the heirloom onto her ring finger. "There. It looks like it was made for you." 

"A perfect fit," Duncan agreed, speaking not only of the ring, but of the couple that stood before him. 

"Yes," Nikolas assured, kissing her forehead. "A ring befitting a Cassadine bride." 

"Nikolas," she scolded, looking embarrassed. "I thought we weren't going to tell anyone that just yet." 

"Duncan can keep a secret," he stated with a knowing smile. "I asked Gia to marry me last night." 

"Congratulations!" MacLeod praised, shaking his hand and placing a light kiss on her cheek. "I'm happy for both of you." 

"We were thinking," Gia put in, "that we will need a good name for our first child. We were hoping to name him after you." 

"Me?" he repeated, visibly pleased. "Duncan Cassadine, eh? That's a fine name!" 

Nikolas and Gia laughed at his proclamation. The slight breeze caught the sound, and carried it, echoing their happiness for all to hear. 

* * *

© 2001   
Please send comments to the author! 

Background by Daire 

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